
Class _D_M:iL_ 
Copglit N" 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



SECTION SIXTY-OlSfE 



SECTION SIXTY-ONE 



SELECTIONS FROM 
LETTERS OF HENRY S. KINGMAN 

MEMBER S. S. A. U. 61 
NORTON HARJES AMBULANCE CORPS 

MAY TO OCTOBER, 1917 




MINNEAPOLIS 
1917 



Copyright Nineleen Seventeen 






PRIVATELY PRINTED 

UNDER THE SUPERVISION 

OF 

H. P. BURNINGHAM 

BOOKMAN 

MINNEAPOLIS 

1917 



0EC27I9I7 



THE TORCH PRESS 

CEDAR RAPIDS 

IOWA 



©G1.A479682 



CONTENTS 




From the Log 


7 


Paris 


9 


Sandricourt 


i8 


To THE Front 


33 


In the Mountains . . . . 


42 


Verdun and Thereabouts 


51 


En Repos 


80 


A Change of Front . 


. 85 


Cablegram 


103 



FROM THE LOG 
Steamer Espagne, May 12, 1917. 

Saturday afternoon. 

Today is one of those beautiful clear days 
with a good sea running, while there is plenty 
of excitement. You see we are closing in on 
the war zone and things are getting tense. Yes- 
terday afternoon, three or four ships were on 
the horizon and that gives much opportunity 
for speculation and exercise of the imagina- 
tion. We crowd the rails and wonder what 
the ships are while no doubt the Captain has 
determined their character long before weVe 
even seen them. We fly no flags, our name is 
not on the ship -no mark of identification. 
Three hundred miles more and we shall be in 
the war zone and from there in, across the Bay 
of Biscay, it will be exciting. Today there 
is to be a lifeboat drill and the lifeboats are the 
chief object of interest. They are fourteen 
strong and all swing out ready for use -while 
we show up at 3 o'clock with life-belts ready 
for a drill whatever it may be. 

I hope by Tuesday you will be having a 
cable from us of our arrival and your longest 
period of waiting for news will be over. But 



keep in mind all the time there's no room for 
worry in these days. 

The Minnesota contingent have a table to- 
gether. Howard Coan arranged for it and it 
makes it very pleasant. 

Here's a boat load of love and again I'm 
very grateful for all you did before leaving 
and the kind of ^'bon voyage" you put behind 
me. 

Write family news, Minnesota and United 
States. Tell me about the camp at Fort Snell- 
ing-who got in- about the new car and the 
lake house and is Gold Medal still on the mar- 
ket? Affectionately, HENRY. 



8 



PARIS 

Wednesday, May 2 J. 

Dear Father : I haven't told you that some- 
how we got to Paris. We were herded from 
the boat at Bordeaux to a station -a two-hour 
wait while we got breakfast and had a roam 
about the streets where evidences of war's 
havoc were more evident than they are in 
Paris. I mean the sombreness in people's 
faces -the women in black -the wounded, etc. 
Our baggage was bunched and we didn't see 
anything more of it until we picked it out of a 
mess of stufif here in Paris. 

Then somehow we reached Paris, arriving 
without incident late Tuesday night, after a 
dusty, hot, rapid 350 mile journey across 
France in one of those hard third-class com- 
partments with nothing but remnants of suit- 
case chocolate and fruit to eat all day. But 
we had a good time-Hollis, Wagner, Barton, 
and his architectural friend, Sanford, and an 
artist, Andrews, as companions in the compart- 
ment-all boys of the Corps. 

France looked prosperous from Bordeaux to 
Paris, to say nothing of its beauty, coming 
through those old cities of Poitiers, Tours, 



Angouleme-rich in feudal lore and wonder- 
ful old chateaux. Barton and his friend sup- 
plied the architectural background, Hollis 
supplied the history, Andrews saw the beauty 
of the ancient life, Fritz produced maps and 
guides, and I enjoyed it all. 

There was such an abundance of well tilled 
and prosperous fields. You see everyone is 
working, the old and young, the women - 
theyVe taken the place of the men. There are 
no idlers, and that's true of the city as well as 
the country, and that's why France keeps up 
her contribution in material necessities and the 
ways of life. I can't tell how beautiful that 
ride was, with its dense vegetation, beautiful 
flowers, fruit and chestnut trees in bloom, the 
quaint old stone tile-roofed houses with their 
gardens and wistaria cornices, while the back- 
ground came in with Lombardy poplars ga- 
lore with le gui (mistletoe) hanging in them 
like huge nests. 

But then, the people along the way! That 
tells a different story-women in black- 
wounded by hundreds -arms in slings and men 
on crutches -bandaged heads -men in uniform 
by the hundred -women in so many different 
phases of life where you wouldn't expect to 
see them - a sombre face everywhere. They've 
lost so much in men -that's where France is 
hurt. It's men they need and there's scarcely 
a man between eighteen and forty-five that 
isn't in uniform. 

We saw German prisoners working on the 

lO 



railroads en route, young blonde haired boys, 
in shabby dress of well battered uniforms - 
boys of sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen -a 
hopeless looking crowd, but well taken care of. 
A prison camp we saw -new buildings -clean 
and in the country where they must have good 
quarters. 

We're in Paris now and here you have to go 
a little farther behind to see the hard results. 
Paris must always be beautiful and busy and 
it's more the military in its glorious side that 
must appear. All the possible gayety in 
France must be centered here but it isn't much. 

I don't believe we'll see the front for two 
months but there's no telling. A training 
camp would be sensible with work on driving, 
repairing, and other things. 

We've done considerable sightseeing, have 
met a good many Minnesota people and spent 
a good deal of our time getting signed up at 
the office and uniforms fitted, etc. 

How's the U. S. crop coming? See Teddy 
can't come over- French wanted him to -they 
want Americans here for any purpose what- 
ever but Wilson looks to me to be handling 
a mighty sane program. Love. Henry. 

Wednesday, May 2 J, IQI?^ 
DearFather and Mother: It's a starlit Pari- 
sian night and the crowds swarm on the Boule- 
vard Capucines a block away. It's the first 
real day for weather that we've had, clear and 
warm, a relief from the uncertainty of rain 

II 



every little while with a cold damp atmos- 
phere followed the next hour with sweltering 
heat made worse by the humid air. 

It's now nine-thirty. The crowd will soon 
be leaving the cafes, will saunter in a half-lit 
city on the principal thoroughfares and then 
dwindle to a rush of taxis with their monot- 
onous honks which seem old-fashioned after 
our shrieks of Klaxons at home. Then it will 
be quiet all over the city- dark, deserted, and 
desolate, with few lights on the main streets 
and the side streets entirely in darkness. Oh! 
it's a quiet Paris at night and then you feel 
more of the workings of war. 

But here I write in complete comfort in a 
room with two comfortable double beds, run- 
ning water, a pipe, and warm. It will take 
more than this to make me realize the war. 

We've been here a week and a day. I don't 
know what we've really done only it seems an 
awful lot and we haven't done much loafing. 
For instance, today meeting Sam Sewall at ten 
o'clock, we took the tram to Versailles, arriv- 
ing at noon. We'd planned on bicycles but the 
price and condition of roads reduced us to 
tram. My remembrance of Versailles was of 
a long, hot, dusty journey with a great display 
of palaces and beautiful gardens with sister 
being photographed underneath a huge marble 
lion. It's different. Today I saw it merely 
from a landscape and beauty point of view. It 
was a wonderful outing and we walked miles 
thru perfectly wonderful May woods and gar- 

12 



dens, cutting out any attempt to see the inside 
of the palaces and making it a strictly out-of- 
door affair- guides and guide books strictly 
out of our line. 

We had our lunch in a white-tabled grove 
along the canal, an excellent meal, then a 
three-hour walk in those wonderful paths and 
groves. It's the most beautiful time of year- 
foliage is dense -flowers at their height and in 
such profusion -lilacs -enormous trees -wis- 
taria -chestnuts everywhere in full bloom - 
honeysuckle - rhododendrons - magnolias-and 
lots of new ones - it's too beautiful. I never saw 
anything like it and all of France that I have 
seen has this same cloak of flowers. Versailles 
is the most wonderful bit of formal landscape 
gardening I ever hope to see and the grottos, 
walks, and planting around the Trianons are 
sublime. That's enough of today. I only hope 
I'll hear from you soon and wonder when. 
What is going on at home and in the States? 
News is meagre and you know in French. I 
see that the Sunday editions in the States are 
to be limited to thirty-six pages. Shocking! 
Here four sheets is absolutely the limit. 

Much love to you all. Henry. 

Saturday, May 26, IQIJ^ 
It's Saturday afternoon, and my old after- 
noon off, so here's a little chat with you after 
luncheon. 

Just at present I'm confined to my room 
with a severe case -quarantined. Oh, merely 

13 



on account of conventional modesty. But you 
see the English tailor who is making our uni- 
forms doesn't know much about speed, and so 
I am forced to put up with an old suit, and am 
patiently waiting for the tailor to put a few 
creases in it, so that I can look regal for the 
opera tonight. Sam, Fritz, and myself are 
going to Thais, seven francs for seats in the 
orchestra -pretty fine -and no full dress al- 
lowed in Paris. Tomorrow night we are see- 
ing Aida, from the gallery, with HoUis Cross, 
so we'll get some good music. 

And then we are also taking tea, Sunday 
afternoon, with Mrs. Herrick to whom Mr. 
Gale gave me a letter of introduction. I went 
up and called on her Thursday afternoon. She 
told me many interesting things about her 
work at the '^canteens" where the traveling 
soldiers are fed, and about the war and things 
of a general nature. She has an apartment on 
Rue Raynaud with a beautiful view of Paris, 
high above the city, overlooking the Seine. 
I've also inquired for Mr. Bartlett, with Mrs. 
Gerould's card, but no luck, as he is seldom 
there. 

Latest reports, after a talk with Mr. Have- 
meyer this morning, in which we asked for 
some definite guarantee of the situation, show 
that we will be sent to a training camp next 
week. 

I hear that another boat comes in Tuesday 
or Wednesday with forty more men for our 
corps -and then they'll have some waiting. 

14 



But all I look for on this boat is some word 
from home -it's been too long. 

Good-bye, and love. HENRY. 

Monday, May 28, 1917. 

Paris at war presents a bewildering spec- 
tacle. You turn from gay frivolity on one side 
to the grim aspect of it on another. As I've 
said before, here must be all the gayety of 
France -for there is some. 

Last night the opera house was filled to hear 
Aida-a quiet and modest crowd, of course. 
The expensive cafes are full, shops are well 
patronized-there's so much evidence of money 
being spent that seems needless, but I think 
the foreigners do much of it. Boulevards are 
crowded with people. The sidewalk cafes are 
packed every evening, and outside of uniforms, 
it's hard to realize what must be taking place 
not far away. 

The women are taking a big place in this 
war, and you see them everywhere in civil life 
taking hold of the men's jobs and doing them 
well. All street cars and subways are run by 
young girls. They are in the shops, selling 
newspapers, waitresses, in the banks, a few 
driving taxis ; in fact, there must be few idle. 
And in another way they are not doing what 
they might -for they quite spoil the poilu, I 
think. It's splendid to see the affection and 
interest and care they give him, but they carry 
it too far and they give too much; he has 
everything, and it spoils him. But, poor men, 

15 



they've been through an awful lot, and it's a 
wonder they still hold out, isn't it? 

I think the Germans, if they were to see 
Paris, would give up immediately if they 
thought or had any idea that they were break- 
ing the spirit of the French, or that they could 
starve them. 

Tonight Sam, Fritz, Coan, and I dine to- 
gether over near the Latin Quarter. We saun- 
tered through there the other evening. What 
an interesting place! And we found, tucked 
away in a back alley, an old church, dating 
from Roman times. It's within two blocks of 
Notre Dame, on the other side of the river, 
but one would never know of its existence. 

We have a library now, consisting of about 
forty books. It has a wide scope, running 
from Thais in French to U. S. A. Field Service 
Regulations, Testaments, numerous French 
dictionaries, war books, and quite an array of 
poetry. We've just purchased Alan Seeger's 
poems and Robert Service's "Rhymes of a Red 
Cross Man." I enjoy them immensely, and 
there are some very splendid things. There's 
one in particular of Seeger's, "A Message to 
America," which painted perhaps a very true 
story before the war declaration, but I hope 
now we stand clear. Service has a very fine 
sonnet on "Faith." 

The French is coming slowly, though it's a 
hit-or-miss shot at a lot of small phrases, and 
conversation is still quite out of the question. I 
keep finding myself craving to talk with these 

i6 



people and get at something more than mere 
observation. 

With ever so much love and an ardent hope 
that everything goes well. HENRY. 



17 



SANDRICOURT 

June 2 -Saturday. 

Would that you could see the calm and peace 
of the setting from which this pen writes. You 
would wonder that there can exist what we all 
know -and only too well. In my immediate 
vicinity, to begin with, a large stake supports 
my back, while a verdant growth of grass and 
moss makes me comfortable with this little 
pad. There are flowers in profusion, daisies, 
large and small, buttercups, blue columbines 
and innumerable species of the wild vetch, 
while strawberry blossoms promise something 
later. 

This is all on top of a high plateau in a 
meadow with trees all about, except for a beau- 
tiful vista directly in front, where a truly mag- 
nificent French landscape opens up and extends 
for miles and miles-varying shades of green 
with deep woods, undulating fields, and the 
brown clay open ones, while light green shows 
the coming of early crops. Long, curving, 
white roads, little white villages with their 
red tiled roofs, lone poplars, many men and 
women in the fields, while just back of me a 
man is swearing at a two-teamed plow of 

i8 



oxen -big, white brutes. Fritz is writing, 
propped up behind another tree not far away. 
Nothing but a beautiful, quiet country to look 
upon, and one wonders how they can be tear- 
ing and disfiguring this same land not so far 
away. 

Now you have my settings, and no doubt 
you want to hear where I am, why we came 
here, what we've done, and the prospects. 

After drifting about in Paris and living in 
what seemed to me luxury, for war days, 
Thursday afternoon we were given notice that 
we would leave Paris the following morning 
at 6:30 for our training camp. So it was a 
wild rush for money, last errands, and pack- 
ing. Before that, since writing you, our days 
in Paris had been much the same-with per- 
haps shopping the most predominant feature 
of the day. We landed at headquarters at 6 
A. M., after a rush for a taxi at that hour in the 
morning, and, fifty strong, we went through 
the gentle process of "herdation" again. An 
hour's ride from Paris brought us to the town 
of Meru, almost due north -you can find it on 
the map. From there south, the road leads 
through beautiful cultivated hills to the vil- 
lage of Sandricourt, and then a mile to a little 
group of buildings where there is now estab- 
lished Depot Voluntaires Americains, 

We marched, four abreast, from Meru to 
our barracks, and there must have been a few 
blisters in the crowd before we finally arrived. 

A few words about the headquarters. My 

19 



feeble pen cannot do justice to a description of 
these places so you'll have to use some imag- 
ination to fill in. But you know the French 
farm house, built on a quadrangle of plaster 
houses, with two-foot walls and red tiled roofs. 
This is a most picturesque one, lying at the 
foot of a hill, with woods and fields all about. 
The buildings themselves are the buildings to 
a chateau owned by Mr. Goelet, who has con- 
tributed so liberally to the Norton Harjes 
Corps. It's an estate of some ten thousand 
acres, a wonderful piece of property with 
woods, fields, pastures, meadows, streams, and 
ponds, while there is a quantity of game about. 
The chateau itself lies some two miles away. 

Upon our arrival we had our luggage, the 
buildings, and a supply of food -so we set to 
work to put things in order, and the making of 
a camp will be our task for the next two weeks. 
Captain Jacobson has direct charge of the boys 
in camp. There is a sort of a dual monarchy 
at the head, an English colonel and a French 
lieutenant whose supervision is direct from 
military authorities -both splendid men who 
have seen considerable service and perfect 
gentlemen. 

I don't know of anything better for one than 
this life, and I'm particularly delighted with 
this chance to get hardened up and in such a 
beautiful country. There are regular duties 
each day placed on the order card the preced- 
ing evening, such as milk details, water order- 
lies, supply details, and table orderlies. Each 

20 



room has its captain or chief, and one man 
takes care of the room each day. It's very 
much like any military camp with not quite so 
much work to do and not so much discipline, 
though the latter is strict and to the letter. 

Captain Jacobson has a great ability to 
handle men without making them feel that he 
is using his position, but rather that we're all 
together and having a good time of it. Then 
Colonel White, the British officer, a short, 
white-haired man, with a monocle and a neat 
uniform, lives at the chateau and pays us a 
visit every morning and afternoon. He's seen 
service in the Dardanelles and comes here on 
a relief job. The lieutenant is the military 
man from the French government, speaks 
English very well, and handles the boys in 
good shape. 

The boys themselves are gradually getting 
together. Heretofore, we've been hitting on 
our selective ways, pretty much in groups, but 
thrown together, and thawing ofif a little cyn- 
ical attitude toward our comrades, we're see- 
ing something more in each other. It's quite 
marvelous, for if ever there was a heterogene- 
ous composition, we are that- men varying in 
age from seventeen to thirty, some immature 
college boys, others older, business men, artists, 
architects, automobile men, vaudeville per- 
formers, English gentlemen -an impossible 
bunch to start with. But we're picking up and 
I hooe we all go to the front together. 

The camp will be a permanent summer af- 

21 



fair with men being sent here after a few days 
in Paris, and then being selected and sent to 
the front as soon as the sections are equipped. 
We can't tell anything about the length of time 
we'll be here, except thatwe are the next crowd 
to go out, and it won't be more than a month. 
I'm glad we're the first bunch here. It's 
rather fun, making camp, and we'll have more 
to keep us busy. The walks about here are 
wonderful, with the woods and open pastures 
and the little French villages. Am wondering 
if you are at the lake, and hope everything is 
going well. Love. HENRY. 

Monday, June J, IQ^y. 
Ma chere Famille: Back in my orchard 
again, with the first shadows of the evening 
beginning to fall. This and the early morning 
are the best part of the day, and to see this- 
it's not exactly what we think of Europe, is it? 
I think all the birds that were at the front have 
taken up their abode here, quantities of them, 
with notes much the same as ours, but just 
enough difference to spoil the name. It's the 
same with the flowers, too. I can recognize 
species, but they are a little different, and trees 
do the same trick. A pretty sight is the corn 
flower, hundreds of deep, blue ones, while 
orchids, fleur de lys, buttercups, forget-me- 
nots, and daisies carpet the fields and woods. 
Soon the old moon will make this a paradise; 
and then there are the new night noises - 
cuckoos call back and forth -owls do their 

22 



hooting, and the turtle-doves add a soft note. 
Why should there be anything that can raise 
havoc with such beauty as this ! And my mis- 
sion turns itself into a vacation, I'm so in love 
with this country. 

You know what a treat it was to hear from 
you, each and every one; and the news from 
clippings was particularly interesting, too -a 
good selection. Am very glad to hear that 
Lester made the camp, though I wish that he 
or Gerald were with me here. Lester would 
adore this present life, but then it's merely one 
way of doing the work ahead, and he may be 
even bossing me as a private in six months,- 
who knows? 

Oh! we had spaghet' tonight (no wonder it's 
a fine evening) cooked in wonderful stringy 
Gruyere cheese, and I found two men that 
didn't care much for it. What a feast! 

It's a good mile walk to Sandricourt in one 
direction, and Courcelle in another. Both 
have shops, and Fritz and I made a raid there 
Saturday. Two tins of jam, a Camembert 
cheese, four cakes of chocolate, cigarettes and 
matches, were the prizes -all for eight francs; 
and that's the extent of trading since we ar- 
rived. The chocolate - punk, but good enough 
for these days. About the only sugar we get is 
a coarse rock stuff. 

You'll think about the only things we think 
of are eating, sleeping, smoking-well, it does 
occupy considerable of our time -but there's a 
good deal that won't get by the lines. 

23 



You'll wonder about some things -and they 
won't be answered -partly because of negli- 
gence perhaps, and we'll have to lay the rest 
on the war. 

There are many people that I want to write, 
but I don't know where the time is coming 
from. 

Regards to every one at home, and a great 
deal of love to all the dear ones. HENRY. 

Sandricourt, June I J, IQIJ- 
Dear Mother', In my favorite spot in the 
orchard again, only it's a dark, drear day, with 
a cold wind at my back, and I'm fearful of 
rain at any moment, and also, that my wash- 
ing won't get the drying that it must have. 
You should have seen me yesterday morning, 
by myself, at the old dilapidated community 
washing fountain, with a board at forty-five 
degrees alongside the little pool, pounding, 
scrubbing, rinsing, and squeezing clothes; a 
dirty lot of water, too, with little green lizards 
and pollywogs for company. And the roof 
over the outfit- it must have been thatched in 
the Dark Ages, for surely it was more holes 
than whole. 

But the camp is very difTerent from my last 
writing. We now have one hundred sixty 
men or more. Men are coming and going 
nearly every day, though the influx quite over- 
shadows the outgoers. Six men have gone to 
join old sections, while ten left Monday, of an 
original group, to drive some cars out to the 

24 



front for an old section, and bring others in. 

Of course, to get out into the field is the one 
objective. Our bunch that came originally 
ought to go first, and soon. They've all been 
in France from a month to six weeks, put in 
many hard licks at getting this camp in order, 
and are surely entitled to the first call. But 
we wait patiently. I'd like to feel that I am 
doing something; this living on absolute char- 
ity is too much. 

Fritz and I have moved to another room, 
Room A, by far the best in the barracks, and 
with Wagner and Cross and several others 
whom we liked very much. 

Mr. Jacobson left for the front last Satur- 
day, leaving the camp in charge of Barton, 
first in command, and his friend Sanford for 
an assistant. They are to run it for a month. 

I think there must be at least thirty-five 
Minnesota men; fine fellows, too; while there 
are six of us who saw a good deal of each other 
at the Chamber of Commerce -Fritz Wheeler, 
Stair, Lawrence Gregory, George Reed, 
Charlie McCarthy, and myself. 

There goes the dinner call for first mess, 
and I must be off. More later. With ever so 
much love. Henry. 

Sandricourt, June I^, IQJJ- 
Dear Mother', Today has been review day 
again with all the celebrities from Paris pay- 
ing us a call. This time they brought two 
men who were the object of our interest and 

25 



admiration -men who came over with Persh- 
ing's staff, one a Major Murphy from the U. 
S. army, and the other a major in the Red 
Cross. We went through our drill and had 
inspection, while a new flag pole with the 
American flag unfurled made me feel more of 
the States' power. A Red Cross flag hangs 
below it. The boys are whitewashing all the 
buildings, inside and out. 

The drill feature occupies about two hours 
a day; three companies equally divided; mine, 
Company ^'A," with Captain Sparks at the 
head. He's from St. Louis, and a room com- 
panion. 

A large item arrived today in the shape of 
uniforms, and we are gently caressing them 
and admiring each other. They are a dark 
khaki, with large square outside pockets; big 
brass Red Cross buttons, leather puttees, and 
a stylish heavy lined overcoat which at pres- 
ent looks like an awful burden ; but we will be 
glad of it later. 

Today I'm the head of the "kitchen detail,'' 
which means nothing less than ''head waiter." 
It's quite a little job, though; nine men under 
me for two services, and you know there is 
nothing the men will kick at more than their 
meals. But I've escaped, at breakfast and 
lunch. 

Fritz and I had a good walk yesterday after- 
noon. While en route we stopped at a farm 
house for eggs and got into one of those half 
word and half hands and feet conversations 

26 



with a Frenchman. He was home for eight 
days' permission, after three years at the front; 
had had both feet frozen solid, two bullet 
wounds, asphyxiation, and I don't know what 
all. Just then he was taking his dog and go- 
ing off for a hunt in the woods. 

Mr. Norton and his party brought out the 
mail this morning, which included your fine 
letter of May 26th. What a fine turnout for 
the Liberty Loan there was in Minneapolis. 

I can't think of anything that I want, unless 
it's cigarettes and tobacco. I believe that has 
to be sent thru the War Department. An 
occasional book would be powerfully wel- 
come, something that I could read and throw 
away, as I can't load up my equipment much 
more. 

The boys just coming from Paris announce 
the arrival there of many American soldiers. 
It must be great. 

They tell us that the list for the next section 
to go out will be posted this afternoon. I 
surely hope Fritz and I will be included. It 
seems that the only possible way to be fair is 
to let the old men go out first. 

Hollis had a Journal of May 27th arrive 
yesterday, latest news from home, and we 
devoured it eagerly. 

It's time that I was sweeping and straight- 
ening up the room. That's one of my tasks 
for today. In polite military terms, I am the 
"room orderly," but I should call it "chamber 
maid." 

Much love to you all. HENRY. 

27 



Sandricourt, June 22, IQIJ. 
My dear Father and Mother', After a month 
of beautiful weather we're taking a dose of 
two days' rain, showers, clouded skies and 
cold. The camp runs with a slimy oozing 
mud -but rubber boots and slickers keep one 
comfortable. Two nights ago a violent thun- 
der storm raised havoc with the poor lads in 
the barns and tents, while one tent blew down 
and all but floated away. But there's little 
complaint on any side, which is quite remark- 
able, as three weeks in one place with con- 
tinued disappointments as to our going wears 



on one's nerves. 



Two sections have been made up since I last 
wrote. Section Sixty-one includes all the old 
men here with about a dozen of the newer ar- 
rivals-George Reed and Tut Stair also being 
in the list. Our section commander is to be a 
Mr. Bullard who's had a year's experience at 
the front. He gave us a talk Sunday last and 
appears to be a thoroughly fine fellow. We 
are to have a French section -it being a section 
held in reserve by the French government to 
replace any section which has run out of cars. 
There are to be twenty new Fiat cars I under- 
stand and about five stafif cars for transport, 
officers, etc. The cars are supposed to be at 
Dijon and to be ready at any time, which is 
getting to be an old story, of course. Whether 
we will pick them up at Dijon or be met with 
them in Paris, no one seems to know. 

It's been an interesting week outside of the 

28 



routine life. The boys have begun contrib- 
uting to French production -which is a very- 
sane proposition. Harvesting has begun with 
hay the initial crop, but it will soon be fol- 
lowed by the other grains. About twenty men 
go from camp each day to nearby farms 
where they stack and pitch hay from seven 
A.M. to five P.M. I had my turn at it Monday 
-but saved a sore back by the fact that an 
early morning rain made the hay too wet. Re- 
sult was the six of us spent a very pleasant 
half holiday. After a round of milk at the 
farm house, we hunted out a guide to show us 
thru a chateau that lay close by, not a very 
large estate but extremely rare in its trees and 
woods with a stream running close by the 
chateau itself. The grounds were in very 
good condition considering no one was living 
there this summer. The formal flower gar- 
dens looked beautiful with their plan and 
straight edges but upon closer examination 
the vegetation in them proved to be potatoes 
and haricots verts, which shows the extent 
of intensive cultivation. The man opened the 
chateau for us and showed it from cellar to 
garret. Of course, it was not in perfect condi- 
tion-all the real valuables had been removed 
-but with an hour or two of preliminaries it 
could have been made very habitable. These 
chateaux in exterior are all very similar, 
large white four-cornered afifairs, extremely 
plain, but here we had opportunity to see the 
interior furnishings with their beautiful pan- 

29 



eled walls, dark oak, hand carved, while 
tapestried walls in the bedrooms made a sim- 
ilar effect to our own wall-papered ones. But 
what surprised me was the real hominess of 
the outfit. I had always imagined them so 
cold -but no doubt the rugs and furniture 
softened the various rooms. The blankets 
were even on some of the beds -the latter 
beautiful four-posters each set off in a little 
niche back of the main room -while a small 
staircase, usually spiral, always led to a small 
chamber above the room for the valet or 
femme de chamber. 

But we've broken into more than vacant 
chateau life. Fritz and Libby discovered a 
treat and included me on their second visit. 
In the course of their walk one afternoon they 
came to these chateau grounds -two miles 
from here - rang a huge bell to see what would 
happen and were given entrance. They un- 
derstood the gateman to say that it was an old 
ladies' home but it developed to be more than 
that. So yesterday the three of us went. At 
this chateau lives Madame Dupret and her 
twenty-year-old son. The latter speaks a little 
English while his mother speaks understand- 
able French. It was truly delightful there - 
sitting in a French parlor-with all the glory 
of a habitable chateau -the books and pictures 
-flowers galore about the room -high white 
paneled walls. There were two ladies calling 
upon Madame so our attentions were entire- 
ly confined to the young man. But Madame 

30 



overlooked nothing in the way of serving de- 
licious tea which was made more so by the ad- 
dition of a flavor of rum. Cakes and cigarettes 
were also served and they couldn't do enough 
for us. We talked of the war, French, Eng- 
lish, and American customs, and closed the 
call with a beautiful walk thru their gardens. 
The boy is home for a month, having been 
wounded in the side and is now convalescent. 
He's a second lieutenant in the Alpine Chas- 
seurs -the highest type of infantry service in 
the French army; his mother a delightful 
woman and most hospitable. They begged us 
to come again and the boy walked some dis- 
tance with us on the way home. I think we 
shall make several calls if we remain here 
long. I think it must be a joy for the boy and 
his mother to have someone for company. The 
father died several years ago. 

Besides this break into French society I at- 
tended a wedding a week ago; a young couple 
invited all those who wanted to come. The 
farm where we went lies a mile up over the 
hill and we poured in there fifty strong shortly 
after supper. After a wait, the couple and 
bridal party showed up, and here in this 
French farm-yard we were a merry party. 
Andrews contributed his accordion for the 
music, and the boys danced with the three 
girls in the bridal party, while the bride and 
groom looked on wreathed in smiles. We took 
up a hat collection of about forty francs for a 
wedding present, and the beauty of it was that 

31 



the groom thought it for the music and want- 
ed to contribute. Then they served a litre of 
white wine all around and we drank to the 
^'little />o//w," Cakes were produced and 
everyone had a good time. The groom in 
his blue uniform made a splendid figure, 
while the bride was a true French dairy-maid. 
That concludes the big events of the week- 
barring the best, which is always the arrival 
of mail ; and the gods were good to me with 
at least a dozen letters most of them from 
you. More later with much love to you all. 
Ever affectionately, HENRY. 



32 



TO THE FRONT 

Thursday, June 28, IQI7- 

Dear Mother and Father: Another week 

finds us en route -whither I do not know, but 

we have the satisfaction of at last being on the 

move. 

You remember Dijon, though perhaps it is 
more familiar to myself, for it was here that 
we spent the night three years ago, during the 
early days of the war. I remember spending 
that night in a vain attempt to locate a com- 
fortable place to sleep. Dave and Fritz found 
the park benches rather hard and finally 
curled up in the window-sill of a hotel, while 
Douglas and myself after much wandering 
finally took refuge on the tables of the station 
cafe. It's somewhat better quarters, I can say, 
this time. 

But I'll give you the line of march and 
personnel. Sunday afternoon at Sandricourt 
came the word that Section Sixty-one would 
leave on the early train Monday morning- 
and for once it was not a rumor. I must 
say that it was not with any real regret that 
we pulled out of the camp forty-five strong 
marching in our military form to the station, 

33 



and we were off for an hour's ride to Paris. 
Section Sixty-one consists of thirty-five men 
who were in the original bunch that went to 
Sandricourt-with ten men who had come 
afterwards. The latter included George Reed 
and Tut Stair and Grant Willard. Hollis and 
George Wagner are of course with us, and 
also Ahlers and Smith of Minnesota. So you 
see we have a good representation. But it's a 
fine crowd of men; we work together in splen- 
did style, and we're going to throughout, I'm 
sure. 

I can now appreciate why Paris has its fes- 
tive appearance. After you have been on 
army rations and in a military camp for three 
weeks and a half, you go to Paris with a light 
heart and ready to eat and laugh. And what 
it must be for the men who have been at the 
front for a year or more! We had little time 
in Paris -having first a delicious meal, from 
hors d'oeuvre to strawberries, and then were 
busy at the bank, a little shopping, a call at 
the office, 7 Rue Francois, where we saw 
Henry Hill for a few minutes -and at five we 
were at the station ready for the trip south to 
Dijon. 

And what a trip it was -it was bad enough 
three years ago. It then took about three 
hours, but this time all night. 

We hit Dijon at 6 130 and had our bread and 
coffee in that identical station cafe. Then in 
three camions we went to our quarters. Be- 
fore the war it was the Dijon Athletic Club- 

34 



at present the most tumble down old plaster 
building you can imagine. The roof was 
about to cave in, the plaster all over the floors, 
and straw everywhere, where previous sol- 
diers had slept. There we set up our little 
canvas cots and made ourselves as comfortable 
as possible-which was not comfortable. We 
eat at large barracks with a couple of hun- 
dred poilus near the automobile park. The 
food is about the same as Sandricourt- pota- 
toes, meat, bread, rice -but our officers have a 
little extra money from the Red Cross and buy 
us cheese, sardines, and beer as extras. I can't 
get used to the French army wine, but at the 
front it's the only thing we'll get to drink. I've 
told you that we are a section of the French 
army. No. 6l Sanitaire Section Americain^ 
and all our cars and equipment come directly 
from the French army. 

Tuesday, our first day, we looked over the 
cars and then got a chance for some sleep in 
the afternoon. There are twenty new Fiat 
cars with two men on each. At present Fm 
with a young fellow by the name of Tommie 
Fast. The cars are in fine condition with 
splendid equipment and excellent ambulance 
bodies. Yesterday we were at work from seven 
until ^wt getting checked up on equipment, 
supplies, oil, gas, etc. Today it's been more of 
that and each car has had a trial run. 

Oh, yes, today we moved, coming from the 
club to this huge barn -it's much better too- 



35 



three enormous rooms -but it's clean as a 
whistle and much nearer the park. 

I understand we leave tomorrow afternoon; 
no one knows where to, it's all under sealed 
orders of course. 

I must go to dinner, and I haven't half cov- 
ered the ground -but I'll hope to get another 
chance tomorrow. We hear nothing of the 
outside world and we probably won't get any 
mail for several days until we've reached a 
permanent camp. 

If you want to send me something I should 
like a couple of those large bottles of Hor- 
lick's malted milk tablets. They're very nu- 
tritious, compact, and good. Send them sep- 
arately and I might get one of them. 

Love to all. HENRY. 

July 6, IQ17. 

My dear Mother: We were having a first 
rate vacation at Dijon -it's a splendid city, so 
absolutely devoid of foreigners and so thor- 
oughly French. Our days were spent for the 
most part working on the cars. About five we 
would go to the barracks for a nap or some- 
times for a bath in the elegantly appointed 
Notre Dame Bains where you could have plen- 
ty of hot and cold water, towels, soap, and time 
for one franc. You know it was my first flirta- 
tion with a bathtub since I left New York, 
and I couldn't help letting the water run just 
for the sheer novelty of it. 

Every evening at seven George Reed, Tut, 

36 



Fritz, and myself -hereafter it must be ^^the 
four" to abbreviate -would go for dinner at 
some cafe and I can still taste those dinners 
and wonder if we'll ever get any more like 
them. Then we'd shop or travel about the 
town and we were all fond of Dijon when we 
left. The people were particularly kind to 
us, especially a few English. At every cafe or 
park they would come and visit. There was 
also considerable opportunity to learn French. 
In fact I've learned enough French since leav- 
ing Sandricourt to convince me that it is not 
such an impossible language and I can at least 
get anything I'm after now and can carry on a 
very poor conversation. But it's good fun and 
an ideal amusement and gives one much to 
pass away the time with. 

Sunday last was a rainy dreary day in Dijon 
and early that morning came the ordre de 
movement. That's the military order that 
puts us on our way. Until that arrives we 
know nothing- merely sit tight and twiddle 
our thumbs but always subdued by rumors 
which never materialize. 

An ordre de movement commands the sec- 
tion to move to a certain place; that done, 
you wait until the next one comes, and so it 
will be all the rest of this life here. All day 
Sunday we were busy putting on the finishing 
touches, filling up with essence (gas) et cetera 
for the trip. We were not told until we actu- 
ally started whither the destination. 

Sunday night it was my turn (and misfor- 

37 



tune) to have the '^dog watch" on the cars and 
consequently I had no sleep that night. But 
it was a short night and we were scheduled to 
pull out at five-thirty Monday morning so the 
boys showed up at about four. Precisely at 
five-forty- five we were on our way -the twen- 
ty ambulances, one camion, the officer's tour- 
ing car. I told you we were forty-five in num- 
ber, twenty drivers of ambulances, twenty 
assistants, two men on the camion and three 
extras, besides two cooks, three mechanics, and 
a general utility man. Shorty by name. 

On a long trip as of the 2nd of July, we 
travel en convoi. The cars are about thirty 
yards apart with the officer's car leading and 
the camion with its mechanics bringing up the 
rear. At the sound of Bullard's whistle every 
driver holds his seat while the aide starts the 
car and then stands with his hand outstretched. 
If there are twenty hands out, two blasts start 
us on our way. If a car is out of it with en- 
gine trouble, tires, or whatever, the convoi 
goes on while the camion waits until it's ready 
and takes its place later on. Of course, there 
are as many as seven or more cars in the rear 
quite often, as those in good shape push right 
along and are picked up by the rear guard of 
delinquents. 

My car, with Fast as aide, holds down 
Number Seven, and Number Seven blew a 
flat tire about an hour out of Dijon. But it 
wasn't much trouble, only an inner tube had 
ripped open, and we had another tire on in 

38 



exactly four minutes. As the convoi was 
resting at the time we didn't even lose our 
place. 

It was a nasty morning, sometimes rain, 
nearly always a mist; but the moisture elim- 
inated the frightful dust and the roads were in 
splendid shape the whole distance. That first 
run we covered about two hundred kilometres 
I should judge, and I'm happy to be where the 
road led us -no less than into the beautiful 

Mountains. I never dreamed that this 

is where we would do our work. 

At noon that day we stopped in a little vil- 
lage for lunch and repairs. Lunch splendid 
- soup - omelette r- bread - jam - potato salad - 
cheese- beer -<:<3/^' au lait. That doesn't sound 
as if we were starving, does it? But that's the 
best meal I've seen en route outside of our 
July 4th dinner. 

That afternoon we were off again at one 
o'clock- the sun shining and a perfectly glori- 
ous ride, increasing in interest and beauty at 
every mile. About three I had the misfortune 
to fail to start my engine- some little thing 
wrong- and as a result got stuck in the rear 
guard for the rest of the trip, as several cars 
fell out and we were never able to pick up the 
leaders. But I had all the better time for it. 
We spent an hour at one time alongside an im- 
mense aviation field where there were literally 
hundreds of machines in the hangars and a 
few in the air. 

The closer we came to our destination, of 

39 



course, the more were the evidences of war; 
that is, in troops and otherwise. But the won- 
derful country took the most of my attention. 
It's a replica of Switzerland -only you must 
cut out the high peaks -but the vegetation is 
the same, the fields and cows high on the 
mountain sides, the winding roads, pines, and 
valleys with the slaty green rivers, the little 
farm houses high above, the air intoxicating, 
hot in the day but cool at night, and always the 
threat of rain. The villages are much the 
same, though of course there's a lack of Swiss 
chalets, for thruout France it's all the red tile 
roof and plaster construction. 

At Dijon we were outfitted with sheepskin 
lined top coats and I have a fairly heavy rain 
coat, sweater, three blankets, and a heavy win- 
ter overcoat which the Corps furnishes with 
our uniform. 

It's nearly two weeks since we left Paris and 
in that time no news at all to speak of, no 
mail, no English papers, though I saw a 
French one this morning. About the only 
news it had was of the grand celebration in 
Paris on the 4th. It will surely be a treat to 
hear from you again and get in touch with the 
outside world. 

Time goes very swiftly even during the days 
of waiting. I'm very happy since leaving 
Sandricourt because we've begun to get near a 
contribution. At least we have our cars to 
keep in order at present and then you know 
how much I love to be in the mountains. 

40 



Best of health all the time -my little watch 
keeps excellent time and I haven't broken my 
glasses yet and I think often of you all. 

Henry. 



41 



IN THE MOUNTAINS 

July yth. 

My dear Father and Mother: It's boiling 
hot today with clear skies and no sign of rain 
and last night was one of those full moon 
nights when the moon filled this beautiful val- 
ley and cast huge shadows. 

I haven't told you of our arrival here and 
our quarters in the village and it seems that 
my letters must be limited to such trivial 
things. As a matter of fact you have more 
news than we have. 

The last part of the trip brought us up a 
steep valley -then one of those corkscrew 
roads to ascend and likewise for the descent, 
and we were at our destination. It didn't take 
me long to get to sleep that night after the 
long drive and no sleep the night before. 

Here we live in true tramp style. There's 
no room for us in any sort of barracks, so we 
are left to our ambulances, which are very 
habitable houses if you can learn to live in the 
smallest possible way. It's possible to put up 
two cots on each side, bracing them against the 
rails that run thru the center for the stretchers, 
and then it's precisely like going to bed in an 

42 



upper berth of the smallest size. But I only 
tried that one night. In fact I could write a 
ten-volume book on methods of sleep. In the 
last seven nights Fve had a different place 
every night. First, in the barracks in Dijon, 
one night on the front seat, one night here on 
the side seat, one night under the sky on my 
cot, the next in the upper berth affair, and now 
we four have regular quarters. You've heard 
of ten-cent beds perhaps. Did you ever hear 
of a five-cent room? That's us. After several 
inquiries we found a lady here who gave up 
her two rooms. I felt like a poor tramp to 
put her out, but she seemed more than anxious 
to do it, and I guess a franc a day must look 
pretty big to her. So we've put up three cots 
in her little ten by ten bedroom and Stair has 
his in the kitchen. And -clean -I've never 
seen a cleaner kitchen or room, while the view 
up the valley and on to the mountains is su- 
perb. 

Our cars are drawn up in order along the 
curb. There's a little brick house that the 
chefs use for a kitchen. We set up the folding 
tables on the sidewalk and thus we live, liter- 
ally, in the street. But it's not at all bad. You 
know how clean a little Swiss village is and 
it's the same here. The grub is fair- it's the 
same old line -we're always hungry and have 
the American passion in France for chocolate, 
eggs, and milk. Tomorrow (Sunday) I hear 
we are to have eggs and bacon for breakfast- 
supreme, isn't it? There's only one person I 

43 



know of who could really be happy on these 
breakfasts and that's you, Dad -because it's 
really no breakfast at all -just bread and cof- 
fee (black as pitch). 

The first three days here we kept busy on 
our cars, getting them in good order, oiled, 
tires repaired, engine cleaned and thorough 
washing. Yes, we wash our cars -in fact we 
keep them as clean as any New York chauf- 
feur would for a drive on Fifth Avenue. 
Number Seven runs splendidly- and I like the 
driving. Yes, we also wear neckties out here 
and shave regularly. 

The Fourth blew around on schedule, but 
it wasn't a very grand and glorious Fourth, 
though I think the most unique of any in my 
travels. We started off to have a holiday, so 
the four of us procured some hard boiled eggs, 
bread, cheese, confiture, and beer and went 
up the nearest mountain. It wasn't much of a 
climb, but we lost the path -and devilish poor 
climbing it was, in underbrush up to our heads. 
We had our feast, gathered a bottle full of 
blueberries, and then sought shelter from an 
oncoming thunder shower. We landed, ten 
minutes from the top, in an old deserted barn, 
found an old table, rigged up some seats, and 
had an afternoon of bridge to the tune of rain, 
blueberries, and the whir of an occasional 
aeroplane, getting back to the village at six in 
a smart rain. We were to have a large feed 
and because of the rain we moved our tables 
into a huge automobile stock room. It was 

44 



quite a feast in its simple way -from soup to 
coffee; fish, meat, potatoes, salad, jam, cheese, 
and pudding (rice). After that we adjourned 
to an entertainment hall where a French or- 
chestra made up of soldiers here gave a con- 
cert and one of the soldiers sang from La 
Tosca and Carmen. Really he had a very good 
voice. Then our lieutenant delivered French 
salutations as did a French major who also 
read a circular letter from General Petain to 
all Americans in France. It was quite a day. 

But now, having our cars all in order again, 
there's little to do. There's a river close by 
for a swim and plenty of walks in the moun- 
tains, and as our lieutenant has gone to Paris 
for his eight day permission I judge we'll 
serve some time here. 

This afternoon the first mail in two weeks 
arrived -with your letter, Mother, of the 17th. 
It was great to hear again. There are several 
letters from the 6th to the i8th that I have not 
received. 

The July Atlantic also came -and that's a 
great treat too -at least a whole afternoon's 
good reading. 

That's all this time -with a great deal of 
love and know that I'm very glad to be where 
I am -in France. 

Ever affectionately, Henry. 

75^^ Juillet, igiy. 

Two weeks tomorrow we've been here. You 
would think we'd tire of it; but no, we are so 

45 



resigned to waits that I can really begin to 
take what comes without grumbling. 

We are known here as Mons. George, Mons. 
Frederic, Mons. Henri, and Mons. Difficile - 
the latter because they cannot pronounce ^'Rus- 
sel," Stair's first name, and there's no French 
name to take its place. 

We have many walks, many games of 
bridge, letter writing, a little reading, much 
talk, French lessons, talks with the natives, 
swims in the river, much sleep, and once in a 
while I do a little thinking- so goes the day. 

Again, we've had a fete day, the Fourteenth 
of July. You know it's the same as our Fourth. 
There was little celebration in the village - 
many flags of all the allies, but particularly 
our own, a few fire-crackers and many people 
promenading. That's about the extent of the 
'^extras" for the day, besides a feast in the 
evening, supplied by the militaire-the same 
feast thruout France, which closed with cigars 
and a glass of champagne. But really, the 
dinner didn't compare with the one they gave 
us on the Fourth. 

Yesterday we took another long walk up the 
mountains to a little cafe where there was an 
old-fashioned dance in progress to the tune of 
a horrible old automatic piano. George Reed 
and I amused the crowd with one turn around 
the hall. 

Friday there took place a presentation of 
piedals in the village square and we were 
party to the same, along with an equal num- 

46 



ber of poilus and another section of Ameri- 
can Ambulance men who are quartered here- 
all Yale men. To take part in this it was 
necessary to drill in the French style so we 
mastered all we could in two hours. But our 
Sandricourt drill came in handy and it only 
took a little practice to learn the French com- 
mands and an adjustment to a different style 
of march and movement. 

The French drill -like everything else 
French -is quick as lightning, much more 
fatiguing, but has its superior points in other 
ways. The command, gardez-vous^ brings 
you to attention which nearly breaks your 
back for the hands must be held palm out- 
the little finger on the trouser seam. It throws 
your shoulders much farther back and is ex- 
tremely awkward. Thus we stood for an hour 
while these three croix du guerres were pre- 
sented by the Major. 

A small crowd gathered, a most harsh 
octette of bugles contributed the music, and 
then we all filed by the Major in grand re- 
view. No doubt you've seen the same thing in 
the movies. I remember it, though I never 
expected to be an active participant. 

Another interesting event was the celebra- 
tion of the fete d'Henri and that of Fred- 
eric. Today- the 15th -is my day and Fritz's 
came on the nth. I believe the French cus- 
tom on these days is to present all the Henris 
or Frederics with a large bunch of flowers and 
thus our feminine crowd here took great pleas- 

47 



use in presenting us with enormous bouquets 
the evening before. I think often of the gar- 
den you write about at home and regret that 
I've never seen it in its glory, but here, too, are 
flowers in profusion -many more than the 
summer ones in Minnesota, and the French 
are lovers of them. 

We've had both good and bad weather. It 
matters little after all -the mountains are al- 
ways interesting- and especially these moon- 
light nights. 

That's all this time. I'd like to write of 
some real hard work but it has to be provided 
apparently. Love to you all. Henry. 

July 30, igiy. 

My dear Mother: You've been neglected 
this past two weeks -but you know my letters 
to any one of the family are for each one of 
you and especially you, though it seems that I 
can write more easily directly to one than the 
inclusive ^^dear family." No change of loca- 
tion -hence the mail came regularly includ- 
ing another envelope of clippings and your 
two good letters of June 30th and July 3d. 

The boys are instituting new pastimes -golf 
is the latest addition. You wouldn't believe 
that golf clubs and balls were attainable in 

R but they are, carefully cut from old 

logs and planks. Four of the boys have made 
a set of clubs and several balls -all with the 
knife and file. They have their drivers, 
mashies, and putters shaped exactly like any 

48 



real club, with joints, handles padded, etc. I 
saw one of the boys make a hundred yard drive 
yesterday which is pretty good for a wooden 
outfit. 

Splendid weather, though it rains today, 
and the nights now with the moon are divine. 
Last tvGning-tou jours heureux Mile. Mar- 
guerite got us up another fine dinner -with a 
perfectly respectable honest fillet of beef 
smothered in onions and all the potatoes, 
haricots verts^ and coffee that we could put 
away. She's a wonderful cook. 

Nearly all of the inhabitants of this place 
work in a big cotton mill and M. took us thru 
it the other day -a thoroughly up-to-date mill, 
with American, English, and Alsatian ma- 
chinery, clean and light, and much better than 
many American factories. Now practically 
all the workers are women, earning for a 
nine-hour day about seventy cents, w^hile the 
few men receive eighty to ninety, and the poor 
old men that I did see were either visiting, 
taking time out for a smoke, or asleep on a 
bale of cotton. They make a rough cotton 
cloth (all for the army), bandages, gas masks, 
etc. -taking the cotton thru all processes from 
the raw bale to the finished product. 

About the most worth while thing one can 
do these days is to keep in good health and 
pick up French, so I spend several hours at a 
time studying and always there's opportunity 
to practise with Mile, and her friends and we 
have simple but good times. What a pipe it 

49 



would be to be taking a French exam, for col- 
lege and how much easier things come when 
you've got a motive. 

There's little to say, Mother. Thank Joe 
for his second letter from camp. Keep well 
and don't worry- don't do too much. Give 
my love to Aunt S. Glad to have the wedding 
and engagement announcements. 

A great deal of love to you all. Henry. 



.^o 



VERDUN AND THEREABOUTS 

Aug. 5, igij. 
My dear Father and Mother: Today finds 
us in a very different scene from that of a week 
ago. In place of green mountain sides, clean 
villages, and immaculately arranged houses, 
there are brown fields, scarred with quantities 
of broken rocks, sordid and dismantled little 
hamlets, and mud, mud, mud everywhere. 

I had little more than finished my last letter 
when came the order for Section 6i to move. 
In our usual haste, we packed and tuned the 
cars up late Monday (July 30th) afternoon 
and were ready for an early start the next 
morning. And all the packing- all the driv- 
ing- the eating- the wandering- think of it, 
always in the rain -for so it's been for seven 
days ; but slickers with rubber boots keep one 
wonderfully dry all the time. 

Mile. Marguerite was much depressed at 
our leaving- and she must rise early Tuesday 
morning and serve us bowls of cafe au lait^ 
bread, butter, and jam. Then au revoirs 
came with some shedding of tears on her part- 
so you see we must have won some place with 
her for our extended stay; but I noticed she 

51 



picked up considerably after we had presented 
her with a little envelope. At least I can thank 
her for a great deal of French which gave me 
a very good start. 

Early Tuesday we were off en convoi- 
knowing our destination for a two days' run, 
but not with the least idea of what it meant. 
The first day was a beautiful run, pulling 
into a fairly respectable town just before din- 
ner and putting up at the cantonment there - 
a French automobile park. The town looked 
as if it might afford something in the way of 
good food and we dined respectably and com- 
pletely at a hotel -and then, Allah be praised! 
we got a couple of rooms for the night. Stair 
and myself had one of these French ^'moun- 
tains" to ourselves and perhaps that bed didn't 
fit well, my first indulgence in such for exactly 
two months. In this town we found several 
U. S. press reporters and had some interesting 
talks, and yes, we met boys of our troops. 
They are here in numbers for we've seen them 
with our own eyes -and how good the Amer- 
ican uniform looks! 

The second day took us another half day's 
run -and the whole day we were passing 
thru villages and quarters of our own troops, 
fine, healthy, browned looking chaps, who at 
present are working their heads off training 
under French officers -trench warfare and the 
like. It must be a terrific program from what 
they said. Of course like all the rest of the 
Americans they are wild to have their chance 

52 



at it, but I'm afraid there are not enough to 
use for a good many months yet. They are 
wonderfully secluded in these houses and 
the Boche aeros haven't a chance of discover- 
ing them. They are spread along the road in 
groups for many miles. We were lucky enough 
to catch a fleeting glance of General Pershing, 
passing his staff cars on the road. 

We spent the second afternoon and night in 
our automobile pare amid much rain; but it 
was a large enough place to warrant looking 
at twice, while many U. S. marines quartered 
near there gave us some one to talk to. We 
expected to remain there several days, but 
were ordered out the next day, coming to this 
little town late that afternoon. Here we are 
settled -have been for three days; they say it 
will be eight- probably two or three weeks. 
At any rate we are near the front, a part of the 
front where there is considerable action and 
on the main road to one of the biggest sectors 
in France -so that the traffic is interesting be- 
yond description. It's called the Sacred Way 
for more men have gone up this road never to 
come back than any other road in the world. 
We are still unattached to any army. Why we 
don't get into action is beyond me. 

Upon our arrival we were greeted by an- 
other section of our corps; one week they'd 
been out of Sandricourt. It included the Fish 
boys, Allan Rogers, Frank Carleton, and Nat 
Chadbourne. It was great to see them all and 
get the latest word from home. 

53 



Our French lieutenant immediately appro- 
priated the best quarters in town, in spite of 
the fact that there were two other sections here 
ahead of us, but that isn't saying much. We 
have the best of the twenty houses -a large 
courtyard on the main road and this large 
farm house in the rear. The courtyard con- 
tains our cars in which most of the boys 
sleep along with numerous chickens, ducks, 
dogs, cows, horses, and all manner of farm 
truck. The most conspicuous ornament is 
mud, though the sun is actually trying to shine 
at present. The officers have three or four 
rooms in the house; and the four of us have 
two rooms -one franc a day with regular beds. 
It must have been quite a prosperous farm 
house in its day, as this room from which I 
write is paneled and draperied with the usual 
heavy French fixings, while clocks and vases 
under mushroom glasses adorn the mantle- 
piece. It's quite a relief to have a dry place 
to go. 

As for the rest of the village -there's little 
to recommend it. The road running thru the 
center is dirty and overrun with farm animals. 
There are perhaps ten civilians ; the rest have 
fled, for in early September, 1914, the Ger- 
mans were here. About the only peaceful 
landmark now is a little river, for the fury of 
their terrible 200's and 220's made a terrible 
impression in the center of the little group of 
houses. They evidently trained them on this 
one little spot. The movie pictures give you a 

54 



vivid picture of how these bombarded towns 
look. (At present a thunder storm is tuning 
up and I must bring some drying clothes in.) 
There has been no effort to build up the 
houses -the roofs are all gone, in many cases 
all four walls -and what remains are merely 
lone walls and fireplaces. On the hill above 
are abandoned trenches, full of empty cart- 
ridges and pieces of hand grenades and trench 
lighters, while the ground is warped and 
broken -deep holes and furrows everywhere. 
Now a poor grass and sod is covering it- 
though it doesn't look as if it would ever bear 
crops again. But even here, not many miles 
from the front, are good crops and the plums 
are especially delicious just now. You can't 
imagine how really peaceful it is in France 
when you're away on a hilltop. We climbed 
there last night and listened to the perpetual 
distant roar, boom, and thud of cannon, while 
below on the road hundreds of camions were 
taking their loads of poilus to the front. I've 
seen them closer too, of course -as they pass 
our courtyard, tired, bedraggled men, with 
little singing, but a yell or two for the Ameri- 
cans. But do you wonder they look tired after 
three years of this? 

I'm getting anxious for some more mail- 
none for nearly two weeks now- and I know 
nothing of the outside world these last four 
days. Wonder if you've sent any packages. I 
can always use cigarettes, tobacco, chocolate, 
books, shaving soap, tooth paste. The pack- 

55 



ages seem to be getting thru with no red tape 
whatsoever. 

There are more letters to write. I wonder 
what kind of a Sunday afternoon you are hav- 
ing- probably on our sun parlor at the lake 
after one of Mother's splendid roast beefs and 
macaroni. A great deal of love to each one of 
the dear family. HENRY. 

II Aug. 1917. 

My dear Mother: There's much to write 
about and this letter may have to be halted at 
any moment, as I'm on duty waiting an Amer- 
ican ambulance car to take me to the front to 
show me the various roads, the postes de 
secourSy and the way of the work -so I'll tell 
you what I can though my hand is perhaps 
none too steady, with my first ''experience" not 
far ofif. I expect to be scared until I have a 
very good looking pompadour, but wouldn't 
miss it for anything. 

I wrote Sister that we had moved again. 
Quite right, going some twenty kilos from my 
last writing to you, to B , another little de- 
molished village. There we were formally 
attached to our present division, about 15,000 
men, and one of the finest attacking divisions 
in the army- four regiments of infantry, two 
battalions of Chasseurs au Pied (the flower 
of the French army), and one company of 
artillery. The whole division has won the 
fourragere -which requires three citations be- 
fore the whole army. They, too, are differ- 

56 



ent entirely from my previous sight of the 
French troops -young, vigorous, full of life 
and enthusiasm, still ready for the fray, the 
spirit which characterized the French in the 
early days when we passed thru France, three 
years ago. 

We were at B three days, putting all 

the finishing touches on our cars in the way of 
cleanliness, grease, oil, and tires. Most of the 
tire trouble comes from the quantities of hob- 
nails left in the roads off the soldiers' shoes. 
Yesterday morning we were off early for the 
final run to the front, where we make our 
headquarters just alongside the base hospital, 
with the front about eleven kilometres in three 
directions. It was the pleasantest day we'd 
had for a run, heavy rain the night before, 
cool, no dust, and the roads practically dry. 

We arrived about noon and my first look 
was not up to my expectations of a few miles 
behind the trenches. Of course much evidence 
of activity in the way of convoys on the road 
and many troops -but the guns were not loud. 
One had to listen for their pounding. The sun 
shone and from this hill one looks for miles to 
the south where runs a quiet river with its line 
of high green trees, woods a-plenty against the 
blue sky, fields browned with a ripening crop, 
flowers, yes-beside our little camping ground- 
and war looked serener than I had thought. 
But towards the battle lines, which are over a 
hill, were hills of brown mud with great gray 
ghosts of what were trees. 

57 



We set to work parking our cars and then 
put up four large tents, three to hold us and 
one for office and kitchen. We worked hap- 
pily on, but as skies became clearer the boom 
of guns became more distinct; huge observa- 
tion balloons slowly rose -perhaps five miles 
behind the front-while from our hill we 
could see them for miles, and they clearly pic- 
ture the line as they swing in and out showing 
the '^salients." Aeroplane activity commenced 
soon -literally dozens in the air- like flies - 
always their buzz, though sometimes even too 
high to see. Then little puffs of white smoke 
appear on high and in the midst appears a 
Boche plane -but towards the line appear 
black puffs of smoke and you know it's the 
Boche firing on the French. But these anti- 
aircraft guns seldom hit their mark- and it's 
more to keep the planes up high. 

Stair and myself were enjoying this aero- 
nautic matinee from the rear end of our cars 
where we could see for miles the planes chas- 
ing each other. A Boche plane suddenly ap- 
pears from his hiding place above a cloud, 
diving straight down, with a rat-a-tat of his 
machine gun distinctly audible, a stream of 
smoke and fire in the wake and he's almost 
upon a saucisson (one of the observation 
balloons called such because they look like 
huge sausages). He swerves -a man drops in 
his parachute from the balloon -the latter 
bursts into flames and falls -while the Boche 
is off with a host of French planes following. 
And then we witnessed a spectacular fight, 

58 



with the French plane winning and driving 
the Boche to earth. 

The next minute I found myself in a ditch, 
flat on my stomach alongside my car, and Tut 
was bumping his head on my heels in his rush 
to do the same. There had come the first 
whistle and accompanying crash of a shell 
lighting about 200 yards away on a road. We 
were up in a minute laughing at our antics and 
the others who had dropped in their tracks, 
while the Frenchmen were running like scared 
rabbits for the abris (dugouts). Then came 
another and we went down -and still another, 
and the cloud of black smoke would arise from 
near the road. Our friends in American Am- 
bulance No. I alongside laugh at us and say a 
shell has to come within fifty yards to have any 
danger, and then if you're on the ground it's 
not apt to be bad. 

Supper came and went- and the early even- 
ing brought more air activity. We walked to 
a nearby cemetery- eight thousand graves 
with their little wooden crosses and simple 
decoration-name- regiment-a tri-color cir- 
cle- and the inscription Mort pour la France \ 
that's all to mark these heroes. 

The guns began to play more vigorously as 
sunset came -the 75's were audible. As dark- 
ness fell the balloons and planes disappeared, 
signal lights and gun flashes rose over the hills 
and a glorious sunset put all the spectacle of 
war to sorry shame. A clear sky with many 
stars was the scene when I went to bed -really 
somewhat serene except for the low boom of 

59 



cannon and the rattle of thousands of artillery 
wheels and ravitaillement (supply) wagons 
as they started their nightly journey to the 
front. I was asleep in a minute -not to awake 
until five this morning when the guns started 
up a terrific cannonading. 

The next three weeks will be busy ones for 
us -with all sorts of work- little sleep -but 
don't worry- I'll write as often as I can. At 
last there will be something that one can do in 
a real contribution. It's immense to be here- 
one doesn't ask to be spared hardship over 
here -only the means and good will to take 
them as they come. 

Not a word from you for two weeks and a 
half -only a letter from Gerald and Father's 
of the 9th. Hope for some soon. At last 
I've located Jimmie Hamilton. He writes 
that he is in a base hospital with an American 
Expedition Force and somewhere near Sandri- 
court I believe. 

We're comfortable in our tents. It's warm 
enough at night with three blankets and a rub- 
ber one to keep ofif the damp and some extra 
overcoats. 

A great deal of love, Mother- 1 suppose 
"no news is good news" and await your let- 
ters. You must think the same. HENRY. 

16 August, 1917. 
My dear Joe: We've just finished dinner- 
soup-meat and spinach-bread and jam-a 
very good layout, and especially attractive in- 

60 



asmuch as we have a new tent for our tables. 
Previously we've always eaten outside, rain, 
wind, or shine. Of course, a violent rain storm 
dilutes the soup a bit- but that matters little in 
these days. 

If you looked in on us just now you would 
find fourteen beds on opposite sides of a huge 
tent with Cross in the middle sort of sand- 
wich like. There's an accordion playing in 
another tent and George Reed is tuning up his 
mouth-organ on the bed next to me. But even 
these noises don't quite silence that eternal din 
and popping over the hills. It's always there - 
sometimes intermittently -at other times a 
perpetual roar-with a few spliced nearer 
shots as a shell explodes in the valley or a bat- 
tery sends one over to the Boche. 

There's such a vast variety of noises about 
here and over the hill in that different country 
that one actually has to make a study of them 
to know what's happening about him. There's 
the terrific bang of a French battery- and 
their batteries actually line the roads along 
which we travel on the way to the poste de 
secours. They are simply deafening at close 
range, and for a fact actually lift your helmet 
off your head at times. Then there are any 
number of different sizes of guns. There's an 
old boy, not so very far away from here, who 
talks up once or twice a night, and when he 
does speak -Oh, what a growl! We call him 
old Monsieur 380 and he can very easily roll 



61 



you over in bed if you happen to be tired of 
your position. Then you hear the whistle of 
the shell as it starts on its way to the Boche and 
every time I hope it brings this war a little 
closer to an end. These very large guns for 
the most part are carried on little railroad 
tracks -the guns mounted on flat cars. The 
shells only cost about 20,000 f r. apiece and six 
shells is a carload. To continue with the cate- 
gory of noises. You have to learn by the 
whistle when a shell is coming close or far. 
Somehow whenever it comes close there's some 
impelling force that sends you flat on your 
face, or if there's time into an abri (dug- 
out), or perhaps under your car. Oh, the 
wildest whistle, scream, and screech that you 
can imagine. Put a thousand of them together 
and the pandemonium in the air above is ter- 
rific as the batteries speak up. Then there's 
the same whistle of the gas shell, but it has no 
loud explosion -only a sickening sputtering as 
it lands and that's the warning to put on your 
mask, always around your neck. And back 
here we have our gongs at the hospital which 
signal an enemy plane overhead and a bugle 
which tells that the danger is over. Then for 
the coming of the gas you can hear little bells 
tolling thruout the valley. And in the air 
there's the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns as they 
fight in the air, or give signals below to the 
artillery. Still another distinctly different 
boom is the exploding of shrapnel in the air 



62 



zone from the anti-aircraft guns. So you see 
in brief what initiation at the front means and 
what you are up against the first night out. 

I wrote Mother of the hill -scarred and bat- 
tered -which lay in the distance. My first run 
came Sunday afternoon when I went with one 
of the American Ambulance boys in his Ford 
to learn the roads and be of what assistance I 
could. It's perhaps two miles across the valley 
and half way up the hill, where are always 
stationed several cars. There's a splendid 
abri there with steel sides, and lined with 
white canvas, bunks, and benches, telephones, 
office, and medicinal equipment. We waited 
here for the telephone call to take us to a poste 
de secours but none came for several hours. 
The time passed with much talk and watching 
shells break over the villages here and there - 
while air activity was always fascinating. A 
walk to the crest of the hill revealed a sight 
which I can't picture. Here lay the land in 
which fighting had taken place. Inch by inch 
the Germans had been driven back out of this 
valley and over another ridge, but at what a 
cost ! And here were the evidences - not a tree 
in foliage, only things that looked like broken 
telephone posts -a little green from this year's 
growth of weeds -the ground seared and fur- 
rowed -pitted and potted -trench marked -a 
different world than this. It looks like a des- 
sert- that's all. There's a little village over 
there- at least 'twas said to be-but there's not 
even a wall two feet high in evidence -nothing 

63 



but broken stone's - that's all to mark it. And 
the very ground on which I walked was much 
of the same nature- trenches half filled with 
stinking water, broken down dugouts, dis- 
carded equipment of all kinds, and enough 
shells lying about to make a first class iron 
mine. Crosses everywhere, and in another 
spot they were bringing in huge wagons filled 
with '^morts." So was the first glimpse. After 
a lunch of canned meat and jam we waited 
into the evening and then -it was to bed on our 
brancards (stretchers) in the abri. But it 
was only a short sleep, made shorter by the 
presence of numerous bugs and rats, which 
finally ended in a chase with my helmet and 
flashlights as weapons. At eleven came the 

order for a car to C , the farthest of our 

pastes de secours and the hardest road and 
everything else. On top of that the man had 
never made the trip before to this place and 
we only had vague directions to follow. So it 
was out into the pitch black -feeling your way 
somewhere along those traffic filled roads, not 
knowing where you were going and always the 
roar. Somehow we got along in the right 
direction, though we often got off the road a 
little and had to retrace our run. Always 
you're bumping a camion or hitting a horse - 
but there aren't any traffic policemen on these 
roads. A camion goes in the ditch but it mat- 
ters little and if it's possible a dozen men push 
it out or there it sticks. The horses rear and 
plunge when guns or shells go off close to them 

64 



but their behavior is nothing short of mirac- 
ulous under the circumstances. Then we lost 
our way completely -and were off three or 
four hundred yards at times, running down 
little paths and ruined roads, in the hope of 
some one who might know of our destination. 

And it's there in the quiet of the mud-piled 
back-paths that one gets the awfulness of the 
surroundings, the utter desolation of it all- 
not a blade of grass -every particle of earth 
churned by shell fire -the shells screaming 
overhead -the continued booming and bang- 
ing- a lone man passing- a head sticking out 
of a dugout- a dead horse -the clatter of 
things moving on the road. It's weird and 
grotesque and another land- not this earth 
that we ever knew. And you think of all this 
on French territory- none of it in Germany. 
They've had nothing of this desolation. And 
you think of the men who've lived in this for 
three years and marvel at the courage that 
can make them hold on in the hope now of 
America! 

But we've found the road again and the 
little Ford goes bouncing and clattering along, 
and I marvel at the driver who could keep it 
from the ditches. Again we got off the road 
and finally the road became a little path. To 
the left, huge dugouts, and to the right, 
perhaps a fifty foot drop below to a ravine. 
It looked two hundred in that inky black. 
But somehow the boy backed out of it a 
good three hundred yards, and we were 

65 



on the road again we hoped, but never cer- 
tain. Next we were plunging on foot down 
steep embankments to a dugout- lone and de- 
serted it looked. I started in with a flashlight - 
no signs of life, but away to the rear was the 
green glow of a wrist watch. Grabbing the 
hand, it turned out to be a telephone post and 
at last someone could give us the definite direc- 
tions which brought us in to the poste de se- 
cours, tout a I' heure^ that last stretch over a 
road not more than three hundred yards from 
the trenches, the star shells almost falling on 
the road and the poste de secours only one 
thousand yards from the Boche trenches them- 
selves. Then there were new noises with the 
ever rat-tat of the machine guns in the trenches 
popping away over the noise of the terrific 
cannonading. But what a relief to be there- 
as the P. S. heaped over with sandbags and 
earth seemed like a stronghold. Three couch- 
ers and one assis was the quiet cargo for our 
return trip. I was riding most of the way 
on the fender, running ahead on the up-grade, 
cranking the car it seemed every two minutes - 
but at last back to the central station. There 
they were most kind with two cups of hot tea, 
then a little more sleep after this three-hour 
run, then another quiet run in the mist of the 
morning and we were back to camp at nine 
the next morning. 

Since then four of our cars have been going 
every night and last night with a particularly 
heavy attack on for a few hours eleven of the 

66 



cars were out all night and the boys all doing 
splendidly. In the meantime I have to sit 
down here- and you're wild to be with the 
rest of them -because I had the misfortune to 
burn out my magneto on rear evacuation work. 
You see we only bring the most urgent cases 
to the fine Field Hospital. The others are 
sifted out and sent immediately, perhaps fifteen 
miles, back to the base hospitals. It was on my 
first run to the latter that the trouble came and 
I had the experience of looking for a tele- 
phone to get word to the hospital to send out 
for my five couchers. They came immediately 
and as we were not far the men were safe in 
the hospital inside of twenty minutes after the 
breakdown. Another car was sent down to 
tow me in and then by telephoning to our 
camp via the Field Hospital I was towed back 
twenty odd kilometres. Such are the misfor- 
tunes of a car. 

Lovingly your brother, HENRY. 

23 August, IQI7. 
My dear Father and Mother: Nearly the 
first of September, which looked so far away 
back in April and has come so surprisingly 
fast. Days just come and go and one cannot 
count them. I even had to ask five men the 
other day to find out the correct date and day 
of the week. The last six days have been per- 
fect ones -clear skies and now a little new 
moon lighting what I thought was my peace- 
ful valley on arrival. And it does have things 

67 



that war cannot alter, sunsets of a pink clouded 
sky with steel grays on the horizons and a glo- 
rious turquoise sky here and there, stars bright 
as in August, but always the flash and boom of 
cannon, always the whir of aeroplane. Days 
are hot, too hot in our tents, and no shade to 
relieve one, while nights are getting hot, and 
war even makes them hotter- in your mind. 

It's a week since I wrote Joe -a week of 
great things -of hundreds of impressions -of 
great enthusiasms -nervous system keyed to 
the highest pitch on many occasions -week of 
sleepless nights -week in which one learns of 
real values of men -week I can never forget - 
week that I can never hope to put on paper as 
it has really been. 

Thru it all my part has been a small one, 
with a broken-down car, as no magneto has 
arrived, and I've had to stay in camp many 
times while others were doing their all at the 
front, filling in when there was a tired driver 
or an extra car at hand and taking my bad luck 
as best I could. By this time, of course, you 
know of the great French drive and of its won- 
derful success up to date. We've been in the 
very thick of it watching the tremendous prep- 
arations thru the last three months and driving 
over the roads that the Boche were so consist- 
ently shelling in a vain attempt to stop the 
preparations. I believe it was the nth -that 
early morning terrific cannonading that I 
spoke of -when things began to really happen, 
when the French artillery commenced its ter- 

68 



rific nine-day bombardment which a German 
major (prisoner) has told us was the worst 
fire that was ever emptied into them in the 
three years of the war. Regiment after regi- 
ment went into the trenches only to be mowed 
down and that accounts for the apparent speed 
of the drive, the actual attack lasting not more 
than six hours at the most, though of course 
slight advances and the repulsing of counter 
attacks have been the order of the day since 
the 20th. The heaviest fighting took place on 
the other side of the river where the two 
famous hills have been retaken. In those few 
days think what the French have done -re- 
taken all the territory that cost the Kronprinz 
nearly 500,000 men to take; and they never 
dreamed of taking it with such rapidity. The 
French losses have been comparatively small. 
In our own division out of perhaps fifteen 
thousand men the killed and wounded 
amounted to not more than 800 men. We 
were prepared to handle nearly three times 
that many. The Boche of course knew that it 
was coming and the three days before the at- 
tack were even hotter than the actual day, as 
they were shelling the valley and roads con- 
tinually. Sunday night, the 19th, was tense - 
quietness until about four o'clock, when a con- 
tinuous cannonading commenced for a four- 
hour preparation and everyone knew that the 
attack of infantry would come the next morn- 
ing. All our cars were on duty, half at the 
front and half here at the hospital, to carry 

69 



back the overflow and less severely wounded 
to other hospitals. At about four Monday 
morning again the artillery were at it in their 
final preparation and at five the men went over 
the lines for the great drive. You know as 
much as we do about its success -how they 
found the German trenches almost wiped out- 
how the Boche went down on their knees to be 
taken prisoners -and as yet all counter attacks 
have been repulsed. 

Our own work was not nearly as strenuous 
as had been expected during the next two days. 
Everything went off like clockwork. The men 
worked wonderfully well. Our section's per- 
formance lay not so much in the number of 
wounded that we had to carry, but the danger 
of the road from which we had to transport 
them, all of the wounded coming from our 
farthest poste. I didn't get a chance at the 
front work during the first two days -doing 
some transporting in the rear evacuation work. 
But there were those who had most miracu- 
lous escapes -how we all got out of it with our 
lives only Providence knows -perhaps it was 
Providence that kept me here-who knows? I 
know that when one is on those dark and shell 
torn roads, one trusts absolutely in something 
to guide him thru. There were some of the 
boys who stayed in abris for hours while the 
roads were bombarded. Others were not so 
fortunate and lay in ditches while the shells 
broke all about. In all, five cars were punc- 
tured by shells -one with fifteen separate holes 

70 



in it. Every car has smashed and broken 
fenders and it's a sad looking outfit. And yet 
all but one escaped. 

You've heard how George Reed was hit no 
doubt by this time. It was the night of the 
1 6th when Bullard came in with a hurry call 
for several cars. Everyone but three of us in 
this tent went- including George, Tut, and 
Fritz, and I was wild at being left down here. 
My sleep was spasmodic, something was in 
the air, and at four in the morning Tut came 
in and told me that George had been hit- 
would I come over to the hospital and stay 
with him. I found him, with his bandaged 
hand -two fingers and part of his hand gone. 
They had just started back from the poste 
when it happened. Tut driving and George 
his aide- the shell landing just back of the car 
and Fritz with his load on the other side. 
They came back the five odd miles with never 
a word of complaint from George and he 
had the presence of mind upon arrival to give 
the officer an order from the poste. He was 
attended to immediately at the hospital by the 
very best surgeons. I sat all day with him, but 
it was a trying day, with him injured, a room 
full of wounded men -several dying. I sha'n't 
forget it or the other side -the wonderful 
pluck of all those men. George's greatest re- 
gret was that he was out of it. He's getting 
along finely. He'll be going to Paris tomor- 
row. Yesterday he was presented the croix 
du guerre. It seems like a small reward for 

71 



what he gave but he surely deserves it and 
more too. The croix with a gold star means 
a citation before the army corps to which we 
are attached. Also there came a congratula- 
tory letter from the General thanking the sec- 
tion for its work. Mr. Norton visited us three 
times the last week going out to the bad poste 
one night with a couple of the boys. He'd 
been in this three years and worked the whole 
length of the front. I think they spent about 
half that night in ditches and abris. At any 
rate he said it was the hardest poste he had 
ever seen. So you see what we got for our 
baptismal work at the front. 

I went out with Fritz night before last but 
it was a quiet night and we made only one trip. 
It was a beautiful starlight night and weird- 
ness at its height with the wild moan of the 
shells as they passed overhead. We spent a 
couple of hours at the base poste and at two in 
the morning were sent on to get a load but 
had to wait for two hours there. So we slept 
in the abri there amidst the desolation. This 
abri was sunk in the ground, as most of them 
are, made of concrete, about five by twelve in 
size. There were eleven dozing occupants 
upon our arrival but these generous poilus 
readily made room for two more. I must be 
getting hard, for I slept soundly for an hour, 
with cannon barking outside, a hard concrete 
floor for my body, the wooden handle of a 
stretcher for a pillow, and not even a stiff 
muscle when I got up at four. We had a won- 

72 



derful ride thru the early dawn to the base 
hospital down the valley with the exception 
of three flat tires, caused by striking an ob- 
ject on the dark road which proved to be an 
unexploded shell. Fortunately we didn't hit 
the timer or it might have been more than a 
flat tire or two. 

Monday evening evidences of the attack and 
its success appeared. First in the form of a 
grey-olive cloud such as they described com- 
ing thru Belgium three years ago. They 
passed on the road 200 yards away in a long 
column of fours, 800 Boche prisoners, and 
since then there are daily arrivals of Boche 
wounded at the hospital. There must be 
eighty odd of them now and the French treat 
them wonderfully well, the same beds and 
food as the French. But they do look differ- 
ent, there's not the individuality of the 
French army -dirty of course. We've all for- 
gotten our German but we did find out that 
they thought the war would be over soon -but 
they didn't express any opinion on the out- 
come. They said they hadn't had anything to 
eat for three days, the French fire having cut 
off all supplies. 

It's great to be behind a victorious army! 
We're all enthusiastic now. It looks like the 
beginning of the end, but how long will that 
take -they hang on so doggedly. Yesterday 
the front was so quiet, one felt it must be the 
end of the war, so peaceful it was, but some- 



73 



how our hopes of the end were dashed with 
last night. 

We had just gone to bed. We'd been watch- 
ing the searchlights play the heavens for the 
hostile craft- the signal lights -the mounting 
fuses -the flash of bursting shrapnel high 
above -a wonderful sight. But that had been 
a common thing for several nights though it 
had been a little livelier when one fellow 
dropped three bombs not far away the night 
before. We were in bed at nine. There was 
a terrific whir above -a plane close to earth - 
but the French planes often fly over us, and 
though we held our breath as he passed over, 
nothing occurred. Perhaps ten minutes passed 
as we joked about it when there came another 
whirring. It was below us in the valley and 
mounting steadily towards us as the ear de- 
tected it. I made for the outside in pajamas 
and my bright blue French slippers. He was 
there. I could plainly see him even in the 
dark perhaps 200 feet above the ground. I 
moved towards a group of the boys who were 
watching and wondering what it was when 
there came the banging of a machine gun. 
That was enough! I knocked down about ten 
tent ropes and landed over in the abri as the 
crowd rushed in with me. There was a gen- 
eral exodus from the tents. Fritz landed in a 
trench upside down. Some were in bare feet, 
some half dressed, others with only pajamas 
and a steel helmet. Then the party started - 
terrific bombing on the hill 300 yards away. 

74 



These bombs are worse than anything else in 
the way of explosions -there's no dodging 
them by their whistle and they are perfectly 
terrific in explosion. Well we'd come out 
after a little and start for bed again and 
there'd be another banging of machine guns, 
bombing, flashes, and whirring as the Boche 
bombed and shot at the roads, blew up muni- 
tion wagons, etc. This lasted for a good five 
hours and when the bombs went off, you 
could swear they were on top of the abri. 
At any rate, they've been doing a lot of this 
the last few days. They've gotten several hos- 
pitals nearby- but I really doubt it's outright 
intention. There are excuses when they are 
trying for railroads and munition plants near- 
by. The hospitals could be much more ju- 
diciously placed. 

I suppose we'll be pulling out of here in a 
couple of weeks -it will be something of a re- 
lief to one's nervous system. Have found 
^'Student in Arms" most interesting; there's 
so very much there that comes into our daily 
lives here. 

Much love to each one of you. Don't wor- 
ry. It's all a part of one's "daily bit." 

Affectionately yours, HENRY. 

JI August, IQI7. 

My dear Mother: There isn't a great deal 
to tell of this past week as the work goes on 
much the same with little variation in our 



75 



own camp life, but there's always plenty of 
variation at the front. 

The great fortified French city is only a five 
minutes' run. We look over into it from our 
little plateau. At a distance it has all the look 
of a thriving metropolis -for there still stand 
even the towers of its most imposing edifice. 
But it's not a particularly healthy place. 
Every day the Boche sends in his compliments 
and we hear the boom of the cannon, the low 
whine of the shell, and then comes the crash. 
Of course there are no civilians in these front 
line towns and I've seen just one woman since 
we arrived three weeks ago today. These 
shells I speak of above come quite regularly, 
as the Boche sends them in nearly without fail 
in the late afternoon just as if it were for a 
French general's tea. But then he's also ir- 
regular enough to keep people guessing and 
does it at many other times. 

Just at present with work lighter- only four 
or five cars to go out a day-Fve had only two 
trips this last week. It's perhaps two miles up 
the hill to the first poste de secours-^si^ we 
wait there for direct calls to the front line poste 
de secours. Sometimes we go right out and 
wait at the front line poste until they have a 
load- it being much easier to make a daylight 
trip as there is less traffic, practically none, 
and also less shelling by the Boche. But the 
artillery men along the roads object to much 
of our travel by daylight as they think it 
brings a little more fire on them. 

76 



I've had two days this last week -the first 

one was a trip to C in the early evening, 

returning at about seven in the morning- so I 

had the night up at C . You see this poste 

is about the last place in any sort of civiliza- 
tion at all -being the last poste which can be 
reached by road. From there everything 
must go by foot to the men in the front line. 

C is a rocked stronghold. It's built in a 

sort of quarry about one hundred fifty feet 
long and thirty feet wide, a regular little city 
of abris^ with kitchens, offices, telepone, 
bunks, operating rooms. In its innermost 
abris there towers over you a good twenty 
feet of solid rock -and a steady bombardment 
of the big shells would be withstood. "^ Up 
some stairs one can climb to the boyaux 
(communicating trenches) where comes and 
goes a stream of men with water, meat, bread, 
mail, and all wants of the men in front. The 
sides of these trenches are lined with intricate 
systems of wires, while they are deep enough 
to conceal the tallest man. 

The operating room itself is back under- 
neath the rock -a little five by ten room with 
white canvassing making an impression of 
cleanliness. The walls are covered with cup- 
boards containing cotton and bandages, bottles 
and tubes of anti-tetanous cafiene and mor- 
phine. They bring a man in here -brought in 
thru the boyaux -d.d']ust his bandage or put 
on new ones and give a crude first aid. In 

^ This abri was nevertheless afterwards crushed by a shell. 

77 



rare cases there's an operation. I sat in here 
for three or four hours, talking with doctors, 
watching, writing, and reading. These men 
are so wonderfully good to you -they treat 
you like officers. But then there's a different 
spirit here than any place else. You can't be 
so mindful of the dangers, Mother, when you 
know what a wonderful life it is, where 
there's no sham, you are more thoroughly alive 
to those about you than ever before, where 
everyone is keen, generous, ready to sacrifice 
and to share. I hope we can all remember the 
lessons we learn about here where a man 
proves himself. It's so evident even in our 
own crowd where we know who's standing 
the gaff- and most everyone has come thru. 

This last week has been full of rain but we 
don't mind that any more. It's much better 
than aeroplanes. It made me a hard run early 
yesterday morning about four-thirty, out to 

C , mud everywhere, shell holes and all. 

At times the car w^ould scarcely make the 
grade on low speed. 

I'm looking anxiously for the malted milks 
and fountain pen. The boys keep getting 
packages. One came today, sent on August 
loth from New York. Mother, remember 
my fondness for pickles, ginger^ figs, olives, 
etc. Do you suppose you could send a few?- 
and always smokes. 

There are so many people whom I want to 
write but my correspondence keeps to a very 



78 



limited set. It seems about all there is time 

Always much love to you, Mother -good 
days to you. There are some wonderful 
things to live for over here. Think of those 
-and that I'm in it. 

Affectionately yours, HENRY. 



79 



EN REPOS 

September 6, IQIJ. 

My dear Mother'. Back of the lines again 
and we are all supremely content. We are 

about five miles from B , the same town 

we were in immediately before going to the 
Verdun sector. Beautiful weather these last 
few days and the moon contributing to per- 
fectly splendid nights. Sunday night came 
the order to go back en repos^ though we 
didn't actually move until Tuesday morning 
it being necessary to wait for an English sec- 
tion which was to replace us. I had the good 
luck to drive our lieutenant down to Bar-le- 
Duc Sunday, and putting up there over night 
in a regular hotel was something of a luxury. 
I was tempted to stay awake all night for the 
sheer joy of appreciating the feathers and 
quilts. After a real honest breakfast in the 
morning we walked the streets -fascinated by 
such tempting shops -and purchased a jar of 
the famous currant jam. I had previously 
seen the peasant women in the back country 
preparing the currants, all the seeds being re- 
moved by hand. 

That same day we came here to L , 

80 



where we were on duty at the service of the 
divisional headquarters, the following day go- 
ing back to our camp, spending a rather 
sleepless night dodging aeroplanes and com- 
ing en convoi here on Tuesday. We're very 
content and comfortable here, have a very 
picturesque farm house on the outskirts of the 
little battered village for our headquarters - 
while we've put up a couple of tents in a green 
grassy orchard. It's great. We'll never for- 
get our last three weeks. Things came and 
went so fast (especially the shells), but I can 
now look back on it with a great deal of satis- 
faction -to have been through it- to have seen 
and lived that front line work. But three 
weeks of it is enough at a time. As a matter 
of fact, the troops don't stay in much more 
than ten days. Our division came up after us 
and went back en repos before us. They 
fully lived up to their former laurels in the 
attack and have won even more honors. 

The new situation of our Corps is apparent- 
ly the same as I outlined in my last letter. The 
government has taken over the work and as 
nearly everyone expects to leave the service, 
we shall only stay on until men can be brought 
over to replace us. 

There's little more to say this time. How 
strange it seems to be going into fall days! 
The last three weeks have flown. Don't know 
when I've felt better either. Much love to 
each one of the dear family- and to you. 

Henry. 

8i 



September 12, IQIJ, 
My dear Mother: Your good letter of 
August 22nd arrived on the loth -which 
makes pretty rapid time; it doesn't make 
Minnesota look so far away after all. I'm 
thinking of Joe's soon departure -tho no one 
has mentioned it as yet. What a busy pen 
you'll be keeping, Mother, with both lads 
away. I'm so glad that we all had that last 
winter together and we'll hope for another 
like it before long. 

Camp life en repos is divine after one 
has been at the front. It's so exquisitely lazy 
-such a happy good-natured crowd -especial- 
ly our fourteen men in a tent under two trees 
of ripening apples and pears. The fourteen 
of us were together at the front- tented -and 
again here. One side of the tent is known as 
the Minnesota side, with five of us lined up 
together, Fritz, Tut, Don Smith, Happy 
Ahlers, and myself. Then Grant Willard is 
also with us. There are three New Yorkers, 
the Jacob brothers, Fraser and, yes, another, 
Bill Sloan, our French star, who insists that 
he cannot speak English and French in the 
same room. He thinks in French. He's a 
man of thirty, married, two children, a gen- 
tleman, an architect. Then there's eighteen- 
year-old Johnnie Taylor who's the happiest, 
gamiest little lad you ever saw. Ten of the 
men have gone on permission. We're hoping 
to get in on the next drawing but it's quite a 
problem with the three of us wanting to go 

82 



together. What a reception a returning per- 
missionaire receives. He's forced to give a 
vivid account of all his civilized life, includ- 
ing of course all the good things he's had to 
eat, all the pretty girls that still exist- for v^e 
are quite sure that they still exist -v^hat he's 
heard more directly from the States -are there 
many Americans in Paris -how is Paris -and 
so goes the questioning category. Then he al- 
w^ays brings back cigarettes and photographs. 
I haven't had much luck with the latter but 
Fritz has some wonders. He's sent several 
home and if they arrived you must see them. 
Our camp is a wonderful little spot, two tents 
in the orchard, then a rambling old French 
farm house, where the hay-lofts, chicken- 
yards, pig-stys, cow-barns, et cetera^ are all 
mixed up in one grand estate under one roof. 
We have our dining-room in the hay-loft, a 
passage way between two towering piles of 
hay. On the top of the latter cluck numerous 
hens, laying numerous eggs which have been 
known to get to other than the owners' mouths. 
Three hens were holding a matinee and waltz 
on one of the tables yesterday as I went thru- 
but that's a detail. Breakfast's at eight. Some 
one goes for the pail of coffee -^w lait now 
-bread and jam, and the rest of us are served 
in bed. Then there's the morning wash, at 
the picturesque pump on the roadside. About 
nine o'clock, letters, reading, etc., until eleven- 
thirty, luncheon. More of the same in the 
afternoon, bridge, a game of horseshoes, etc., 

83 



until dinner time. After dinner we always 
make a pilgrimage to the village cafe for 
cafe. It's dark early now, at quarter of 
eight-we have a song, some chatter, and are 
in bed by nine or nine-thirty. It's been beau- 
tiful weather-not at all cold this last week- 
and thank you the moon has gone and the 
avians have ceased their first night visita- 
tions. They even bombed our own little vil- 
lage-five bombs in the center of the town, but 
no damage, as they all lit in the streets or 
fields. Tut and I saw the whole affair from a 
little knoll up behind the camp. It's fascinat- 
ing to watch these midnight raids provided 
you have a safe place. 

That's all this time -much love to each of 
you and my thoughts are with you. HENRY. 



84 



A CHANGE OF FRONT 

September IJ, IQIJ^ 
My dear Mother', Who do you suppose 
occupied this sunshiny room three years or 
more ago? And will they ever return? I 
doubt if they would want to could they see it 
now. But-in their haste to depart-there are 
left for our convenient use a little tabouret 
upon which I write and my clothes hang in a 
large mahogany wardrobe. There's another 
elegantly decorated black walnut one in the 
hall. Also there hang on the walls of this 
little bedroom large gaily colored pictures 
with a background of rose wall-paper. There 
are two huge mirrors, one in the door of the 
wardrobe and the other above the mantelpiece 
with a quaint old-gold frame. There still re- 
main two little figures unbroken on the man- 
telpiece, a gilded figure of a Cupid and a 
white glass figure of the Virgin Mary, but her 
face is gone. Lace curtains hang over the 
casement windows which look out on a grassy 
orchard hill. Think of the homes like this in 
France where men like ourselves come now 
and without any asking for keys. A mere nod 
from the French officer gives us such a house 
for quarters. 

85 



There are no civilians at all in this little vil- 
lage. It's too near the lines and all is given 
up to the military. In fact, each house is num- 
bered and a placard states so many hommes 
which of course means how many men it will 
shelter. The cellar of each house has its own 
individuality too, for at front and back there 
is an entrance -precisely like a bulkhead -and 
upon entering one finds a huge abri^ merely 
the cellar reenforced with dirt and rocks, 
brick, etc., and here we'd go in case of shelling 
or bombardment by the avians. 

We left L yesterday morning, coming 

directly here at S , about five miles from 

the actual lines -so we are relatively about 
the same distance as we were in our camp at 

B next to the hospital. This little village 

lies not very far south of our former work but 
it's a much quieter sector- and it must be for 
we hear very few guns -and the boys who 
have been out to look over the roads say there 
is little doing. But nothing could be worse 

than the three weeks we had at V and as 

that was our baptism this work must no doubt 
seem tame. 

The village lies nestled down between two 
hills covered with pines, and in fact beautiful 
woods cover all the hills. To think that it 
was the same beautiful country up above is 
almost incredible -for there has never been 
anything like so much fighting around here. 

One steps from the rear doors of our house 
into what was a garden but down a little path 

86 



you come to a river winding thru the pine 
woods, then a gate in the wall. There are 
many paths, a modest house with terrace, with 
quite a lawn, and remnants of a garden. Many 
kinds of trees and shrubs are still beautiful, 
while a small lagoon with wicker bridges 
make it quite estately. It's truly very beauti- 
ful and much the best place I've seen since we 
left the mountains. 

Our division "went in" yesterday and work 
commences today. Inasmuch as "Cupie," my 
aide, is in England and Tut Stair's aide is 
also on permission we have our cars alone. 
Hence, I'm going out with him tonight and 
he'll probably go out with me when it's my 
turn to go out. 

It's interesting to be back at the front. Old 
friends turn up in the way of brancardiers^ 
officers, cooks, and others. You see a division 
has some 15,000 men. At the front we're all 
together in a little "sector," but en repos we 
may be scattered thruout fifteen to twenty vil- 
lages and we see only those in our own par- 
ticular hamlet. 

It was a beautiful ride up yesterday- leav- 
ing a little before noon -a clear sky, and the 
air so clear that one could see for miles from 
the tops of the hills. Woods are beginning to 
change yellow, apple trees are loaded with de- 
licious fruit. 

(An interruption here while I looked out 
of the window to watch the shrapnel breaking 
around a Boche avion who is flying a mile or 

87 



so overhead.) The avions were out in force 
last night, bombing apparently everything but 
this end of town. The building shook from 
the nearest explosions. We always seem to 

have some saving place. At B we were 

near the hospital. Here they've never shelled 
or bombed in three years they say. 

I am wondering if Joe is at Andover by this 
time. I know how much you are all going to 
miss him. Fd give anything if "conscience" 
would let me come home and take his place as 
chauffeur at least. 

Much love to you, Mother- don't worry- 
am in best of health and in good spirits. Love 
to all. Henry. 

Parts, September 2^, IQIJ- 
Dear Father and Mother: Sunday morn- 
ing in Paris -you will be surprised to find me 
here. How quick the scene changes, for only 
yesterday morning we were listening to the 
din of guns at the front. It's been some time 
since we've had such a real civilized place to 
live in. Fritz, Tut, and I came here to the 
Sylvia Hotel -the same as last May. We have 
only two or three days to look up information 
and get a little respite from the life of "some- 
where in France." Tomorrow and Tuesday 
we will be chasing up "dope" -today a real 
lazy loaf. 

Hollis Cross is also with us and George 
Reed still at the hospital. All had dinner to- 
gether last evening. Fm going to look up Sam 

88 



Sewall today. This isn't much of a letter, but 
time is precious here and I'll write as soon as 
we get back to the front. HENRY. 

Winter hat, malted milk tablets, and Sister's 
scarf received. Thanks a heap. 

September 2Q, IQI7. 

Ma chere Famille : It's good to be back at 
the front- strange as it may seem. When you're 
in the thick of things you are crazy to get out 
and would give your last cent to see civiliza- 
tion and yet four days of it was quite sufficient. 
It's somehow such a wonderful life here. It's 
worth in one day what weeks of ordinary life 
would be. I fear I shall be quite spoiled when 
we go back to our civilian duties. It will re- 
quire some ^'will" to buckle down. But I 
wish, and do all of us, that we could get back, 
and that it were all over with. I wonder what 
you think of the length of the war. The French 
no longer even say. At the beginning it was 
three months -then another summer -then an- 
other winter-well surely it will be over by 
next summer- then a year- and now, ''We do 
not know." Not even a guess will they hazard. 
Many have said that to me, while ''Cupie," 
who has returned from England, says that 
opinion there runs to the end of the war com- 
ing next spring. I think next fall-four years- 
but who knows? 

We had four days in Paris -one day in 
traveling each way -and you know what a 
vacation it was after four months away from 

89 



anything like it. I saw scarcely anyone that I 
knew outside of ambulance men as even Sam 
Sewall was out of the city. I expected to meet 
some one from home any minute, but no luck. 
Mrs. H. was also out of the city. We saw a 
good deal of George Reed, who is still in the 
hospital. 

The recruiting officer has been here during 
our absence and six of the boys signed up 
(duration of the war) ; perhaps more will. At 
the present time Mr. Norton says we will be 
relieved within a month. 

Paris was even gayer than last May and 
fully as beautiful too with the first touches of 
gold in the trees. Every day there seems like 
a holiday somehow- and of course it is, for 
practically every man in uniform is there for 
his permission. We ate decidedly well, I must 
say, and it did have an appealing lure. Had 
many good walks on the boulevards and drives 
in the Bois, shopping and visiting with other 
ambulance men whom we knew before at 
Sandricourt or elsewhere. Saw Lucius Thay- 
er of Amherst, Lawrence Gregory, and many 
others. 

But this is so utterly different. It seems like 
a dream. Just at present Fritz, Tut, and I are 
high on a wooded hill overlooking the little 
village nestled in the pine-covered hills, with 
woods all about us. The front is much the 
same, perfectly beautiful woods, and splendid 
roads. It's almost like driving in the ^'Bois." 
We only need two cars out a day and there are 

90 



very few calls. It's always been a very quiet 
sector except at the very beginning of the war, 
when there was terrific fighting at Les 
Eparges. Our rear line pastes de secours lie 
in the beautiful woods. They are artistically 
designed woodland villages, a few abrisy 
with little paths and gardens, rustic benches 
and summer houses. It's quite wonderful, and 
you can wander for hours in the woods, look 
at hidden batteries -and scarcely never a shell 
coming in. Yes, it's fine here -all except the 
avians with their midnight raids, and this 
great fine full moon is a joy to them. There's 
nothing worse than these air raids. Every one 
agrees they are worse than shelling, even the 
most violent up at Verdun, near our front 
pastes. Of course the avians leave the front 
alone -it's the little villages they go after- 
and they surely can put fear into one. I've 
seen more of the night heavens in the last 
months than in all my life, and if one wanted 
to learn astronomy this would surely be a good 
occupation. But our abris are strong and 
we go in when the whir begins to get loud, and 
somehow they never come after midnight, so 
we get some sleep. 

Weather continues to be splendid -no rain 
for two weeks -none while in Paris either- 
but nights are chilly- only I wish they w^ould 
get cold enough to kill the flies which are per- 
fectly terrible. Sleep in my clothes about half 
the time anyway- it's a good combination both 
for cold and avians. 

91 



To each one of you a great deal of love - and 
any thank-yous for the letters and packages. 

Henry. 



many 



4 October, IQIJ. 

My dear Mother: There isn't a thrilling 
amount of news this time -but just a few com- 
monplaces to say that the time is rushing on 
and everything well. 

Mother, you'd never worry if you could see 
me now -it's the most regal and comfortable 
place imaginable; a great French estate on the 
banks of the sluggish Meuse. And here I am 
in a great wicker arm chair with one of those 
full extensions for feet and legs -what an unin- 
teresting dry letter I'll be writing in such com- 
fort. This is on an enormous terrace with a 
great stone balustrade, and beyond that is the 
lawn and the conventional chateau vista -a 
great distance thru the trees and to a little vil- 
lage beyond and then the hills. And here it is 
October and there are still beautiful flower 
beds -zinnias, asters, nasturtiums, quantities 
of marigolds, calendulas, detestable petunias, 
etc. Behind me towers the enormous mediae- 
val chateau with its great turrets on each cor- 
ner, its finely gabled roofs, all in stone you 
know, and on the other side a courtyard with 
a great gate between two big stone towers. 
It's all so much like the stories of mediaeval 
France and such a fine building architectur- 
ally as compared with the modern chateaux 
I've seen. The grounds cover acres, woods 

92 



and fields, beautiful paths and lanes. Oh, 
where is the war! 

Cupie and I are on duty for twenty-four 
hours here on what we call rear evacuation 
work. You see it's a hospital now but there 
are practically no cases at the present time and 
we haven't had a single run. There are three 
French ladies here, nurses; one is particular- 
ly striking walking yonder on the lawn in her 
white costume and a beautiful purple sweater. 
Last night, Cupie and I had a big white pan- 
eled room all to ourselves, regular beds with 
sheets, electric light, and a fireplace which we 
couldn't use -but I was tempted to try all of 
the twenty-odd beds. ^ 

What a month of beautiful weather was 
September, only three rainy days -always 
warm, though the nights are getting colder. I 
only put on the heavy ''jeans" yesterday. The 
moon has been wonderful -the brightest I 
ever saw -and we've been thankful for a 
couple of cloudy nights and wind yesterday 
and the day before. We'll be thru with our 
work here before long now and no doubt 
have some days of en repos. 

Had a splendid bunch of mail two days 
ago-ten letters-yours of the 5th, 8th, and 
1 2th - two from Father and Joe - and one from 
Aunt Sue. I can never thank you enough for 
all your good letters -and always you are so 
good about having me over here. You're im- 
mense, Mother, about it all. , t t r 
Did I tell you that last May Fritz and I left 

93 



a lot of our candy, nuts, etc., in our trunk ex- 
pecting to get it soon when we came into Paris 
from Sandricourt? Well, we never had that 
chance, so we brought it out this time. Every- 
thing has kept splendidly and we've been 
enjoying Aunt Nell's wonderful box of as- 
sorted nuts. Missy's dates and cookies, and a 
lot of good things you put in. You see at 

S we have a room with fireplace. A 

group of us gather every night there, have a 
little feed, hot coffee cooked over the coals, 
toast and jam and songs. The same little 
^^tent" group as a rule. It's great and the 
conversation is rare, ranging from the Arctic 
Circle to the South Sea Islands. Then usually 
there comes the slow droning hum and the 
Boche avion breaks up our happy party. 

That's about all this time -not much of any- 
thing- but it's been sort of a good chat, dear 
Mother. Everyone keep well and happy -my 
love to you all and a very great share to you. 

Henry. 

October S, ^QI?- 
My dear Father: It's a cold, nasty day, 
with the sun trying to shine. We moved our 
quarters a few days ago due to the fact that 
the Boche made it a little too lively for the in- 
habitants of the town, including ourselves. 
We rather regretted leaving our comfortable 
rooms with fireplaces and all that, especially 
in view of the place we are now. It's in the 
woods, and a good way from anything that 

94 



resembles civilization. In fact, we have to go 
three miles to get casks of water and no lights 
are allowed -absolutely. With its getting 
dark at six o'clock you see it makes a rather 
long night. You'd be interested to hear more 
of the place but it's defendu to say much. 
It would be rather lively I guess if the Boche 
discovered the place. 

Had a long letter from Gerald yesterday. 
He tells me that Ted Cross has a second lieu- 
tenancy in the artillery and Dave Cutler the 
same commission in the infantry. Gerald was 
expecting a regular commission in the Navy 
very shortly. 

Fritz had a Sunday Journal of the 9th in 
which we found many interesting items. Won- 
der if you noticed an account of a Boche air 
raid upon a French city, by a Mile. Estang. 
The same air raid was one of the many at Bar- 
le-Duc which we heard while we w^ere spend- 
ing those days en repos. In fact, Fritz was 
down there that same night. This harvest 
moon has produced even more of it than last 
month. Coming back from Paris we spent the 

night in B , and though it was a beautiful 

night, were fortunate to escape a raid. The 
next night was a terror there -about the worst 
raid ever conducted against a single city I 
guess. You sent me a clipping which spoke of 
an air raid on a hospital at Vandalaincourt. 
That's a place well known to us. In fact it was 
at that hospital that my magneto burned out 
which I wrote you about some six weeks ago. 

95 



It would mean a good deal to drop in on 
you and have an evening before the fire. But 
I'm not asking to come home yet. As I've said 
before, if there's work to be done I should 
rather be here than anywhere else. Did I tell 
you that the section carried over 3,000 wound- 
ed in our first action? 

Would you notify the New Republic and 
the Atlantic of my new address -Morgan, 
Harjes Cie. It's time to eat now -nothing 
more than eating to live these days -but we'll 
be out of here soon and the cooks are under a 
good many disadvantages. 

A great deal of love to you. Father. 

Henry. 

October II, IQIJ. 
My dear Mother: We had been driving 
all day, rising in the early foggy dawn for 
packing and then a good one hundred twenty 
kilometres run to our present quarters of en 
repos] and it was after that long cold drive 
with nothing hot to eat since early morning 
coffee, arriving here after dark, that your letter 
of September 14th came and you know it was 
welcome. It's a week since I've written you 
and I'll have difficulty recalling the events. 

Our last quarters w^ere in the town of S 

until we were shelled out of the place and 
then as I told Father we moved to the poste 
in the woods -four days of that- pulling 
out early Saturday morning, October 6th. 
Those last quarters were too close for com- 

96 



fort but the rain and cloudy skies kept us 
well covered and we escaped any excitement. 
But as lights were so absolutely out of the 
question there, no chance of a fire for warmth 
and the only water available at three miles 
distance, it wasn't far from life in the trenches. 
We didn't wash for the whole time and we 
turned in at seven o'clock every night from 
lack of anything else to do. 

The division came out the day before us, 
and when they move of course we move too. 
This same division I haven't said much 
about except when we first joined them. It 
had a good reputation, one of the best in 
France, and is still more in renown after the 
successes of Verdun. The whole division 
wears the fourragere -the one regiment of 
infantry which did not have it when we joined 
having gained it during the Verdun attacks. 
The fourragere is a regimental, as the croix 
du guerre is an individual honor. It results 
in every member of the regiment wearing a 
red and green cord, with a brass ornament on 
the end, around the left shoulder. How dif- 
ferent is the French military system from our 
own in these matters of "honors," dress, and 
customs. They still cling to a little of the 
ancient "glories" in their army- in fact all of 
the armies do save our own. 

But to go on with the travels. We came 
south thru the valley of the Meuse, which, 
after the turning of the greens to brown is a 
very uninteresting place, over the well known 

97 



road to Bar-le-Duc -where we saw the results 
of that terrific bombardment by the avians 
which we missed by one night. It was always 
raining and bitterly cold and not a pleasure 
ride. Upon arrival here the quarters we ex- 
pected to occupy were in flames because a 
poilu had inconsiderately dropped a cigar- 
ette in the hay and set the barn on fire. What 
a sight it was to see the fire brigade, about two 
hundred soldiers, lined up double between the 
village pump and the burning object. Down 
one line went the full pails, down the other the 
empties, and in between pails they were hav- 
ing one grand gossip and the fire blazed mer- 
rily on. We stood around for a couple of 
hours shivering, until finally we were ad- 
mitted to the last available quarters in town- 
and that only by special dispensation because 
we were Americans and not real poilus. It 
proved to be a girls' school, a two-story affair, 
with an attic. We drew the attic and there 
we are, forty odd, all in one grand bedroom. 
Every three feet you have to duck a rafter, 
every foot there are wires for the purposes of 
drying "lingerie," a tile roof, one window, and 
about seventy-five other windows because the 
tiles don't quite fit. They also keep their win- 
ter supply of wood up there, all the cast-off 
furniture of the last thirty years and enough 
rubbish to show that the place was never in- 
habited by anything but rats. But we've spent 
five nights there and expect several more. We 
do have a comfortable place part of the time, 

98 



none other than the kindergarten which we 
are allowed the use of from eleven until one 
and after four in the afternoon. One small 
stove and forty men keep it comfortably warm. 
That's where Fm writing now. 

A day goes about like this: Breakfast at 
eight, chop wood and work in the kitchen for 
a couple of hours, tinker on the car, lunch at 
eleven-thirty, more kitchen jobs, a walk or 
work on the car and it's supper time, which 
comes at five-thirty. It's dark at six now. 
They jumped the clock back an hour on us the 
other day. Don't know how long this vigor- 
ous life will last. Just at present Fritz and I 
are helping out in the kitchen which accounts 
for considerable of it. The evening goes by 
with a game of bridge. 

Nine days straight of rain and chill. I 
think we're sewed into our clothes for the win- 
ter. We sleep with everything available. 

In another month I'll be going thru the 
process of deciding my future all over again. 
How I wish the Boche would decide it for 
me by asking for peace. Mother, it's eleven- 
thirty, this room is getting cold, as the fire is 
out and the wood gone. What a strange life it 
is we lead here -rambling about- doesn't this 
letter sound it? 

I hope so much that each one of the dear 
family is well and happy. My love to tons 
les trots and a great deal to you. HENRY. 



99 



Paris, October 2^ , IQI7. 

My dear Joe: Last wrote you from S . 

About the next day after that letter things liv- 
ened up considerably. I didn't write home 
just what happened but it had all the earmarks 
of a very lively Boche party. Whether the 
French had sent over an invitation for that day 
I don't know, but at any rate the Boche cer- 
tainly came back with an R. S. V. P. 

Fritz and yours truly were seated in the 
garden back of our house reading when it 
started -the bang of the Boche gun -the sharp 
whistle overhead and the crash in the other 
end of the city. Wheeler and Kingman im- 
mediately cease reading and arise, hardly be- 
lieving that there was to be a bombardment of 
this village, hitherto unmolested except by air 
raids. But on these occasions precaution al- 
ways rules supreme and we moved for some 
woods a hundred yards away and towards the 
hill to await developments. Things developed 
tout de suite^ for another one came in on 
the hill opposite us and immediately we were 
climbing the hill where we finally landed and 
sat down to watch the party. It kept up -a 
shell coming in every two minutes and ten sec- 
onds, first in one end of the village, then the 
center, then our end, and always lighting with- 
in a few yards of the road. It being a one- 
street village, they usually hit a house. After 
every shell you would see about a hundred 
Frenchmen go tearing out of the village and 
up the hills like so many rats driven out by a 

100 



flood. By the whistle we could tell almost 
within fifty yards where the shell would light 
and then followed a great cloud of smoke, 
all kinds of debris would go sailing into 
the air, trees and everything else, while rocks 
would even come up near us though we were 
a good three hundred yards away. After an 
hour of this it ceased and we went back to look 
over the damage. We knew that three of the 
shells had landed very close to our house and 
all the rest of the boys had gone into the abri 
there. Within ten feet of where we had been 
sitting was next to the biggest shell crater 
weVe seen. You could put our whole section 
in it and then two or three of the cars. It had 
uprooted a sixty-foot pine tree and thrown 
limbs clear over the house. It completely de- 
molished our dining-room tables in the next 
yard and on the whole I was quite glad we had 
moved to the hill. Reading would have been 
difficult you know with a rough visitor like 
that. Another shell landed in the next garden 
and another totally destroyed the house across 
the way. The prospect of living in that vil- 
lage was not appetizing, hence we all moved 
that afternoon -not away, but up to one of our 
front line pastes in the woods, a beautiful 
place but somewhat close to the lines -perhaps 
two kilometers. At any rate it was a rotten 
place, no water, no lights, cold and rainy, and 
we were ready to pull out when the order 
came four days later. We moved down near 
Nancy for a week's en repos and were re- 

lOI 



lieved by an American army unit two weeks 
ago today. 

Since then I've been looking for a job in the 
army with the exception of a four days' trip I 
took to see Jimmie Hamilton. Am trying to 
land something in the artillery, though a com- 
mission looks like a mighty slim proposition 
and you'll probably next hear of your brother 
as a private ^'Somewhere in France." 

Give my best to Walt and to you much love 
and good luck. Affectionately, HENRY. 



1 02 



CABLEGRAM 

Paris, November 14, ^9^7- 
Kingmariy 

Minneapolis, Minn,: 
Joining Emergency Section, Italian Ambu- 
lance. Kingman. 



103 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: S^Qoes.um Ox<^^ 
Treatment Date: ^'^'^ 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD UEADEB IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

Cranberry Township. PA 16065 
(724) 779-2111 








007 693 228 1 



